Resurgence
by Michael-Harambay
Summary: He didn't ask to wake up in another world, as another person. Or mech. Whatever. There had to be a reason he was brought here. All he had to do was figure it out and how to get home, before they found out he wasn't the robot named Bumblebee. Easy enough, right?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Resurgence**

"Bumblebee, could you come in here for a breem?" Ratchet motioned to his office, and waited for the little mech to enter before following suit. Swallowing, Bumblebee cautiously asked, "Something wrong Ratchet?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Bumblebee frowned, "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

Ratchet sighed, and set down the datapad he'd been holding. He fixed Bumblebee with his best 'Don't-you-lie-to-me-you-little-Glitch' glare, a look he had perfected in dealing with the twins.

"Don't give me any of that slag, kid. Why are you always late to shifts? Jazz mentioned you didn't even _show up_ to a mission briefing earlier today." The yellow 'bot absorbed the line of questioning with a neutral expression, waiting for Ratchet to finish. Very uncharacteristic, the CMO noted. He had always known Bumblebee to be an expressionate mech, which he wasn't being now.

Bumblebee met ratchet's optics. "I'm fine Ratchet. Really. I guess I just never got Jazz's memo."

Ratchet folded his arms. "He left a message on your comm."

Bumblebee nervously rubbed the back of his helm. "Uhhh, I, uh, I never checked. Distracted I guess."

"And what, exactly, is distracting you? I can tell you're _scared_ of something, Bumblebee. You act like you barely know me, or any of the crew for that matter." Ratchet thought he saw a sudden flash of, was that fear? in Bumblebee's optics, but whatever it was disappeared just as quickly.

"Did Ironhide put you up to this?" "No, but that's beside the point," Ratchet snapped.

"Believe it or not, I care about you. I care about all my patients. I'm just trying to figure out what's wrong." Now it was the scout's turn to glare.

" _Nothing_ is _wrong_ with me Ratchet. I'm fine. Can I go now? Sir?"

The medic was tempted to say 'no' and see how well that played out, but the yellow mechling clearly wanted to get out of his office. It wasn't like he could force his friend to tell him the problem. And there definitely _was_ a problem, he was sure; even Ironhide had noticed this 'new' Bumblebee. He regarded an increasingly squirming Bumblebee, then finally relented with a "Fine then, get out."

As Bumblebee passed him, he tacked on a "Just know that you can tell me whatever it is. I'm your medic; anything you say is confidential." The minibot looked over his shoulder, but didn't respond as he headed out of the med bay. Ratchet frowned after him.

Bumblebee kept up his fast clip even after he was well away from 'the hatchet's' lair. He passed several people in the hallway, inwardly marveling at each weird and unique frame design but outwardly remaining as expressionless as a robot. Arriving at where he knew his shared quarters with Ironhide to be, he made to punch in the key code…' _Damn it.'_ He wasn't used to such blunt fingers. Now he had to try again while also _not_ looking like the moron who couldn't get into his room. Ugggghhhhhhhhhhhh.

' _Third time's the charm'_ he thought darkly when he finally _did_ get the door to open. Oh good, Ironhide wasn't home. That made things less awkward. The red mech was probably hurt that he didn't reciprocate its affections, but honestly? Ironhide kind of freaked him out. His memory files labeled the mech as his adoptive caretaker-apparently, Bumblebee was still somewhat young. Like the equivalent of a teenager, or something equivalent to his own age. He knew Ironhide. Yet, he didn't _know_ him. Hell, he didn't know anything anymore. All he knew was that he _wasn't_ on Earth. Also, the aliens here seemed to think he was a robot named Bumblebee.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Bee, wait up!" Bumblebee hesitated mid-stride and turned to see who had addressed him. _Bluestreak_ memory files that weren't his supplied. Bluestreak was jogging lightly to catch up. When he did, the gunner smiled brightly at him. "Good orn Bumblebee."

'Bumblebee' summoned up a smile. "Good...orn to you too, Bluestreak."

"Well, it's not technically a 'good' orn yet, how can you tell because it only just started you know, but I do plan to make it one. Are you headed to the rec room for your morning rations? That's where I'm headed too! Ooh, maybe we can sit together! I hope there are enough seats left because it can get pretty crowded around this time what with everyone getting off shift or out of recharge like we did, I much prefer the booth seats-"

Bumblebee was only partially listening, adding in the appropriate noncommittal "huh"s and "yeah"s where needed. He was a bit more preoccupied with the tiny problem of being stuck on an alien base in the middle of freakin' nowhere in _outer-space_ to really care about what kind of energon Bluestreak planned to have for breakfast. God he wished the aliens ate real food. He would give anything for a decent slice of pizza or a hamburger right now. Energon didn't have a taste, or maybe it was that the _robots_ couldn't taste anything. Whatever. He wasn't about to ask.

"Watch where you're going _Bug_!" Bumblebee snapped out of his Bluestreak-induced trance to see that in fact two people could _not_ fit through the rec-room door at the same time. ' _Shit!'_ A golden arm put his head in a playful - ' _okay-definitely-not-playful'_ \- hold and its owner snarled,

"You better not have chipped any of my paint!"

Mercifully he only had to struggle in vain for a couple of seconds before someone behind him said, "Knock it off, Sunny! Ironhide's watching!" If there was one person who could shove Sunstreaker off of him and not lose a few fingers doing it, it was Sideswipe. Sunstreaker gave him one last glower over a gold plated shoulder as Sideswipe led him through the crowd. Bumblebee nearly sagged in relief. ' _Ph_ _ew.'_

Just then remembering his not-blue companion, Bumblebee looked over to see Bluestreak staring. "What?"

Bluestreak raised an optic ridge. "Why did you let Sunstreaker do that? You could have just thrown him off."

Um, no, he couldn't.

"Uh, He wasn't worth it." The yellow mech quickly moved away into the crowd, ending the bad line of conversation before it began. Pushing his way through the throng of milling aliens and cursing the real Bumblebee for being so vertically challenged, Bumblebee got about ⅓ the way to the bar before giving up and heading to one of the wall dispensers.

The dispensers were huge cylindrical things with three different colors of energon to offer. He didn't know what the different colors meant; but he had already tried two out of three. Guess it was time to give the third one a go.

Cube in hand, the scout moved to stand to the side of the dispenser. Bumblebee leaned against the wall, not meaning to conceal himself but not complaining if he was. He wasn't one for chit chat. ' _Especially with aliens'_. He scowled into his drink at the errant thought. He was _so_ dead when they found him out. No question about it. Would they shoot him? Throw him in robot-jail? Impersonating an officer had to be a crime no matter what planet you're from.

Or would he be put in some kind of insane asylum? Then again, maybe he really _had_ lost his mind. But his memories of Earth were so real! Something in his spark - heart, whatever, - knew his memories of Earth were real, and that his memories of Cybertron were fake. Okay, maybe not fake, but definitely not his.

Great, now he was brooding. To distract himself, the young man scanned through the gathered autobots over his drink. That one over there was a 'bot named Wheeljack. According to his memories, the engineer had a tendency to blow shit up. Including himself. Over there was another acquaintance of Bumblebee, sitting with a green mech he also recognized as Hound. The silver and blue noble noticed Bumblebee's gaze and tilted his head at him. Bumblebee quickly averted his optics. ' _Mirage is one of Jazz's spies. Don't want to mess with that.'_ Through the crowd, he spotted a cluster of winged mechs by an energon dispenser on the far wall. ' _The Aerialbots'_ he vaguely recalled.

"Highgrade for breakfast? Must have been some pit of a dream."

' _Highgrade?'_ Bumblebee was jerked out of his people watching by the unexpected comment. He turned to see its speaker was a pink robot slightly shorter than him. ' _Yes! There's someone smaller than me!'_

Hmm. He should respond, even though he'd had no clue the energon he'd selected was highgrade.

"Trust me, if you pulled a shift with Sideswipe, _you'd_ have a headache after that nightmare too." He still had no idea how the red twin had magnetized him to his chair.

' _I hope Bumblebee's not a lightweight'_ he thought while the femme laughed.

"Don't worry, I've been made well aware of what a menace that mech can be." Bumblebee smiled ruefully, "Did he get you with a magnetized chair too?"

"Haha, no. Elita and Firestar were just telling me about all you mechs on base."

At her yellow colleague's knowing look, she snickered and said "Not like _that_! I'm a new transfer is all, just come in from Polyhex." Bumblebee perked up a little. "Really? Me too…."

At her skeptical expression, he quickly amended, "I-uh, I mean, this base only recently became the command center. I've known these people for a long time and, actually, believe it or not I'm an officer. Still trying to figure out how _that_ happened. It's just that the base is still new to me."

Technically not a lie? She nodded at the explanation. "Oh. Well, I don't really know many people here." He smiled. ' _Maybe it would be nice to have a friend around here that_ I _made.'_

"Hey, now you know me. Name's..Bumblebee." He stuck out his hand to shake hers, but she just looked at it and then him, confused. ' _Right. I guess aliens don't do handshakes.'_

Awkward.

Thankfully Chromia's hand suddenly appeared on the pink femme's shoulder. "There you are! Moonracer finally got us a table. Oh, good orn Bumblebee." Bumblebee returned the greeting more neutrally than Cromia would have liked, but he didn't have the capacity to muster up any more false enthusiasm.

His pink companion said, "My designation's Lanerunner. See you later Bumblebee," before allowing Chromia to lead her away.

He waited until the two disappeared before heading to the nearest recycling unit and covertly dumping his energon. He would rather go hungry than drunk. A couple of the aerialbots passed by, loudly jesting about some guy named Starscream and his inability to fly straight. One even made a bet that he was easily twenty times the flyer, prompting laughter and and another voice to tell the cocky mech to _prove_ it. The group decided to hit the training grounds. Bumblebee had his back to them, so they didn't notice his eavesdropping.

' _Training grounds?'_ Bumblebee thought about it. He'd never been there, and it beat moping around in here. He remembered driving in the memories that weren't his. What was it like to _be_ the car? Well, he'd just have to find out.

It was hard to look like you weren't following someone when you were following someone. He passed several people as his chase led him further and further into the maze of hallways, and he always gave them a smile or polite nod.

Finally, the aerialbots disappeared through an exit that just _had_ to belong the training room. Careful not to go in right after them, Bumblebee plamed open the door and stepped inside without really thinking about it.

 _OR SHOULD HE SAY OUTSIDE!_

It was too late to go back to the safety, the _gravity_ , of the hallway now. He had already floated out of reach. That didn't stop him from trying anyway. In his panicked struggle, much like the involuntary motions of a swimmer drowning, he transformed repeatedly. His wheels spun in empty space, moving him nowhere. He would have hyperventilated had he air - or lungs - and the fact that as a robot he didn't have to breath gave him little comfort.

"NOOOO!"

He was going to die alone, in an alien body, and none of his friends and family from before on Earth would ever know what happened to him. ' _NO!'_

' _Okay calm down, calm down. Think through this. You're still close enough to the base to get back inside somewhere, you just have to find a source of momentum and a door.'_ He imagined himself floating alone, far beyond the moon and any help, forever. His engined snarled and he banished the fear inducing thought. ' _NOT helping!'_ Having gone physically limp in contemplation, his mind frantically sought a solution to where he could get force of some kind. He'd seen the movies. That was totally how zero gravity worked, right?

"Yes!" Transforming his gun hand (you know, he really should figure out how to handle himself in combat before Ironhide challenged him to a dual or something), he fired a few rounds into the vacuum. The recoil slowed his progress somewhat, and he fired again. And again. Eventually, Bumblebee got himself headed in the opposite direction, towards the series of interconnected buildings that housed a fraction of the autobot army and served as its temporary command base.

It took him a breem to realize that his descent was angled more horizontally than vertically. And that he was going too fast. ' _ShitShitShitShi'_ BANG!

That had hurt. Something was definitely broken. He grabbed a ledge to keep from bouncing back into space on impact, and after a minute of hanging his head in pain he onlined his optics and looked up to see another pair of shocked optics looking back. ' _Great. This is embarrassing'_

Keeping his precarious hold on the sill with one hand, he tapped the stranger's window.

"Hey, hey you! Let me in!" The unknown person hopped up from his berth and hurried to the window. He messed with something out of Bumblebee's sight for a second. Absently, Bumblebee wondered why the mech wasn't sucked out when the window moved aside and a green hand roughly grabbed his wrist to haul him in.

He knew when he was back inside the gravity of the base. Yes, it had to be that moment when his face met the floor.

"Are you insane?!" His rescuer flipped the 'window' closed. "What in the _Pit_ were you doing out there!" Bumblebee groaned which turned into a chuckle. He popped his face up off the floor to make eye contact and seriously stated, "Going for a walk."

His facade dropped when he laughed at his own stupid joke (and the fact that he was still miraculously alive), and he put his head back down in pain. "Uuuuggghhhhh."

"A walk? Outside?!" The green mech sputtered. From his prone position on the floor Bumblebee mumbled, "Yeah. I needed fresh air."

"There _isn't_ any air in space you nitwit!"

"The more you know."

The mech sighed, pinched his olfactory sensor, and kneeled beside the stationary scout. Helping Bumblebee to a sitting position he said, "You hit the window pretty hard. Let me have a look at the damage." Bumblebee didn't protest as he was sat up. He asked, "You a medic?" The green 'bot nodded and unsubspaced a couple of tools.

"Yes." He opened a panel in Bumblebee's somewhat crushed chest and plunged his hand into it. "And what are you, a crash dummy?"

Bumblebee snickered, "Nope. Just the regular kind," That made the stranger smile slightly, in contrast to the sharp jolts of pain he sent through the other's frame as he pounded dents out from the inside. The pair fell into silence for a few breems. The green mech broke it first.

"You aren't as damaged as I originally thought; Just a couple of large dents and a few crossed wires. Your frame is pretty dense."

"Yeah," the human turned robot said, "I'm pretty dense." It was only after he said it that he realized how it sounded. "Not like, _dense_ , you know, but dense like…," He stopped talking, knowing a fail when he made one. His whole existence was kind of a fail at the moment. Aiming to change the subject, he looked around. "Ummmm, where are we?"

"Ummmm, my _quarters_?" His impromptu mechanic mocked.

Bumblebee rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh, sorry about that…?" The stranger straightened. "Tune-up. And _you_ are?"

"Bumblebee." Tune-up stood, having finished the repairs, to lean back against his berth, in his _room_ , awkwardly.

"Any chance you could not mention this to Ratchet? I'll owe you one."

Tune-up considered the offer, and supposed the debt might come in handy should this 'Bumblebee' happen to irk him later.

"Perhaps." He glanced at the door. "Don't crash into the door on your way out."

If that wasn't a hint Bumblebee didn't know what was. Tune-up watched the weird yellow mech leave. What a lunatic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Bumblebee was on his berth, arms under his head to form a makeshift pillow. Staring at the ceiling, he was lost in his own - well, technically not his own - thoughts. He was going through _the_ _real_ Bumblebee's memories, so different from his of Earth. It was a meditative activity that also served a practical purpose; if he was to keep up this charade he had to know the part.

He could sense Ironhide in the main room even with the door closed. Bumblebee had a creator bond with the old mech, a sort of 'sixth sense' that had freaked him out so much when he first felt the alien sensation of another's emotions that he had slammed it shut. He honestly didn't know how bonds worked or how he had 'closed' his. But even with it shut he could feel Ironhide's presence.

 _Sigh_.

His shift started in five breems. If he left now he might still make it. ' _Why do I even bother?'_ He hated pretending to be someone, some _thing_ , that he wasn't. But what would freaking ALIENS do to him if he didn't act like he was Bumblebee? He swung himself to a sitting position, then got up. According to Prowl's online roster, he had patrol.

"Where are you going?" He froze. Damn it, he had been so close. The more he interacted with Ironhide the more chances he had to slip up. ' _Okay, poker face.'_

Refusing to look at him, Bumblebee neutrally said, "Patrol."

He had had his back to Ironhide as he strode out, so he never saw the mech's brief look of hurt at so curt a reply. Ironhide started, "Good lu-" but the door had already closed.

Bumblebee had a map of the base stored in his memory files. His area of patrol this time around was exactly 7 miles from here. ' _This base is more than 7 miles long? Cool!'_

What _wasn't_ cool was that he had to drive there if he didn't want to end up in Prowl's office again. Which would probably land him in Ratchet's office, if the medic's earlier lecture was anything to go by. Yeah no thanks.

Ratchet had been more right than he'd known, and Bumblebee wanted to keep it that way.

The map listed several streets, like miniature highways, that ran throughout the complex of buildings that made up the lunar base. Easy. He could take one of those. Following the map in his head, Bumblebee came to a door marked 'exit'. Past experiences with exit doors being what they were, he held onto the wall and cautiously punched the open mechanism, leaping away from the door when it did.

A sense of stupidity descended when the now open doorway revealed not the vacuum of space, but a smooth winding corridor that had to be the in-base 'road'.

' _Okay, I can do this. Baby steps.'_

The part meant for driving on had to be at least 10 feet lower than the floor level he currently stood on. Hopping down with a grunt, he glanced around and realized realized he was alone - no one else was driving by.

' _Transform_!,' he thought. Nothing. Maybe his T-cog needed a voice command? He said, "Transform" while internally wondering how he'd known what a T-cog was.

Nope. Still on his own (okay maybe not _his_ own) two peds.

"Go." Still in root mode. Feeling a touch of amusement at his predicament, he raised his hands to the horizon in the Spiderman sign and shouted, "Drive!" That might have worked for the web-slinger's superpowers, but he wasn't a fictional TV character.

' _Dang; I was_ sure _that would work. What gives?'_ He had been able to change shape earlier in his panic at being sucked into space, why was now any different? The pistons on his back twitched. He rotated his doorwings. How did these transformers _transform_?

Maybe Bumblebee's memories could tell him. He searched for a memory. A recent file showed the ground rushing past him, rough on his tires- With a flurry of folding parts and shifting gears his body rearranged itself. That had felt...weird. The small vehicle sat parked in shock for a minute.

' _Oh.'_ Then, ' _Now, how to go forwa-_ ' The minimech shot backwards with a squeal of tires to slam into the wall that served as the road's side-rail.

' _Shit!'_

* * *

"Hey Inferno, check out monitor 67." Inferno swiveled his in his chair to look at his current security partner's black and white back, which was moving in silent laughter. Did he really want to know what _Jazz_ thought was funny? He stood up to look over Jazz's shoulder plates. ' _What the-'_

"Is that... _Bumblebee_?" At the designation of his subordinate, the head of Special Ops finally lost it and laughed out loud. "It sho' looks that way!"

Inferno cracked a smile at Bumblebee's expense, then on a more serious note said, "What is he doing?"

Jazz, having turned to watch Inferno's reaction, looked back at the screen and shrugged, still grinning.

"Probably sufferin' one of tha twin's pranks. He must of pissed 'em off something serious for them to mess with his navigation drive."

"Shouldn't we do something?" Inferno asked, watching the now-driving-in-circles-Bumblebee. At least he wasn't hitting the lane divider anymore. Jazz leaned back in his seat and waved a hand dismissively. The Twin's weren't his problem. They were Prowl's.

"We should watch."

* * *

It had only taken Bumblebee a few minutes to figure out the basics. Really, it was like driving a car. Except you _were_ the car. Not one to push his luck, he only went what he thought was 50/mph, a reasonable speed that might as well have been 5/mph considering the break neck speed of the his fellow autobots as they flew by. They had to be doing at least 160. His HUD pinged to let him know he was nearing his destination, and he pulled off to the side to transform.

If he looked past the whole being an alien thing, patrol was pretty dull. He was just walking around, looking for anything suspicious.

That blinking dot, at the top right hand side of his vision, had come back again. ' _What is that anyway?'_ He had ignored the strange circle up until now, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do. He was bored. Focusing on it, something in his processor went 'click'.

' _TOO LOUD! TOO LOUD!'_ Overwhelmed by the voices filling his mind, he slapped his hands over his audios in a desperately attempt to make it stop. But the chatter was coming from somewhere _in_ side.

Grinding his denta, Bumblebee struggled to imagine the circle reappearing in his vision. As soon as he was able to complete the thought through the mind numbing noise, it came back. He mentally pushed the button, and everything stopped, allowing blessed silence to return.

He hadn't realized he'd shut his optics. Or was kneeling. Thank goodness nobody else had been in the hallway to see his breakdown. He was pretty sure everyone but him knew how to work a comm, and he didn't feel like explaining himself to Ratchet again. They'd probably think he was out of his mind.

He sighed. It wasn't like he could ask the mech, or any of the aliens for that matter, how the comms worked. He would have to look into it on his own later. For now he had a patrol to complete.

With every step he took his peds made metallic clinking sounds against the floor. Walking was so much louder when you were a robot. And distracting. So distracting, that he was completely thrown for a loop when two arms wrapped under his from behind and dragged him into what must have been a closet.

Bumblebee started to scream, but couldn't get the words out when a gigantic hand clapped over his mouth (and most of the rest of his face; he realized, ' _this guy must be huge!'_ ).

' _I'm going to die! I'm going to die! Oh shit I'm GOING TO DIE!'_ But his attacker giggled, ' _Fucking GIGGLED!_ ', and whispered,

"Knock it off 'bee, or Ratchet's gonna hear you!" in a relatively deep voice.

' _What the fuck?'_

He could hear pedsteps (and swearing) approaching their cramped hiding place, and from under the door saw what must have been Ratchet's shadow rush by. Neither of them moved for a sparkbeat, but then Bumblebee got over it and remembered who and where he was. He threw himself forward which busted open the storage closet door, and both he and his unknown attacker who had been unprepared for such an action toppled out in a heap. How Ratchet didn't hear the crash and come running back to beat them senseless was a mystery.

His green assailant slowly gathered himself, laughing. Bumblebee gaped at the robot picking himself up off the floor. He. Was. HUGE! How had that green _goliath_ snuck up on him? The mech bent over, laughing hard.

"Whoo, 'Bee," he gasped between breathless chuckles. "Ratchet was going to offline me for _sure_! See, me and Trailbreaker were playing _lob_ , and I accidently threw it too hard and knocked over some tools that he "needed"! You should've seen the look on Hatchet's face-"

The unknown mech shut up, having finally glanced at Bumblebee. He said: "Actually, you should see the look on _your_ face."

Bumblebee hadn't realized that he'd somehow transformed both his arms into guns and taken up a defensive position on instinct. The green mech eyed the guns aimed at him nervously, and stuttered, "Uh, ' _Bee_?" But Bumblebee didn't lower his weapons or stop scowling. ' _Who are you? Should I know you? Who are you?'_ He was combing Bumblebee's memories for any mention of the green idiot, who definitely seemed to know _him_.

"Bumblebee? It's me, Bulkhead."

Now he could put a name to the face. He slowly lowered his firearms, which transformed back into regular arms, and watched the mech distrustfully. Bulkhead stared at him. Eventually he said, "You okay 'Bee?"

"That wasn't funny." Bumblebee snarled, completely unamused. "Am I okay? _Am I okay?_ What kind of person _shoves_ their _comrade_ into a _closet_! You nearly gave me a _**heart**_ attack!"

Bulkhead blinked, confused. "A what attack?"

Bumblebee paused in his tirade, confused by the interruption. Then he realized to his horror that he'd just said an English word among the Cybertronian. The word " _heart_ " in English sounded nothing like the clicks and whirrs the aliens used in their speech. He quickly backpedaled,

"-I said a _spark_ attack, but that's beside the point! I'm on patrol right now and I might have _shot_ you for grabbing me like that!" Bulkhead seemed to shrink in on himself. ' _Oh come on. Not the kicked puppy look_ ', Bumblebee thought darkly, not feeling an ounce of pity.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you hadn't heard me coming. Wasn't trying to surprise you like that." Bumblebee didn't acknowledge the apology. Instead he said,"I have a patrol to get back to," and looked at the mech expectantly. Bulkhead looked uncomfortable, but nodded and said, "O-Okay." before shuffling out of Bumblebee's way. Bumblebee brushed past him.

And so patrol continued. One hallway had an entire wall of windows, and he peered out of them at the expanse beyond for a long minute. What did Earth look like from space? He had seen the pictures, but obviously wasn't an astronaut himself. He kept walking. At one point he thought he saw a what looked like a black cat disappearing into a vent, but he must have imagined it. There weren't any cats on Cybertron.

Eventually the time displayed on his HUD told him his shift was over. Luckily he was close enough to the officers' quarters to not have to drive again. Bumblebee got in a lift and pressed his floor's button, then moved to lean against the wall. But the turbolift stopped on the next floor to admit someone else. His superior Jazz walked in with Mirage in tow. The two special ops moved to the back of the elevator so that their backs faced the walls; not because they distrusted the other mechs in the lift but simply because special ops mechs were paranoid as a rule. They couldn't afford not to be. Their posture was rigid and professional compared to Bumblebee's relaxed position against one wall.

"Heya 'Bee." Jazz started easily. "Could you come with me to my office? I got somethin' ta' discuss with ya."

"Sure. Uh, Sir." Bumblebee fumbled. Mirage remained silent. Bumblebee waited for Jazz to get off and followed him, not sure where Jazz's office was but trying to look like he knew.

As soon as the door closed behind them Jazz unsubspaced a datapad and slid it across his desk (yes, Jazz has a desk in his office, he's not a complete slacker), saying,

"The 'Cons have been quiet lately. Only a few minor skirmishes here an' there, and no attempts to launch an attack on our moon base." Bumblebee nodded, pretending to be serious.

"Prowl thinks they're regrouping or using the time ta' train new recruits."

' _Who was 'Prowl'?_

"But I think there's more to it than that. The movement of troops through what used to be Polyhex," Jazz's voice took on a hard edge at the name of the city, "suggests something new at play. There's no real strategic advantage to occupying the Polyhex area, so why all the guards? Your mission, along with your mission partner Mirage, is to _find out_ why, and if it's a weapon of some sort, destroy it or bring back as much data on it as possible. You and 'Raj are our best scouts. You leave at 0800 hours."

Bumblebee saluted. "Yes, Sir."

Jazz nodded and dismissed him, and Bumblebee managed to make it to his quarters (suspiciously Ironhide free) without breaking down.

He was so dead this time. They wanted him to go down to this planet - which wasn't even _his_ \- and sneak around in a place where robots who wanted to _kill_ him were stationed. He couldn't, no, he wouldn't, go. Except for the little fact that if he refused they might figure out something was wrong with him. Jazz certainly would.

Refusing a mission wasn't an option, but he didn't know how to be a freaking _spy_. That was the real Bumblebee's job. What was he going to do now?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _Call me a yellow-plated coward, but I am NOT going down there_.

On second thought, his frame was already yellow. But what he was about to do was still cowardly, Bumblebee couldn't deny it.

The former human was in a hallway, on his way to the washracks. He knew nobody else would be in there this time of orn right at shift change. And he would bet his rear axle there were no cameras in there, either. Surely the aliens had some modesty.

In his subspace he had an energon dagger swiped from Ironhide's personal weapons stash in their shared quarters. He'd put it back later. Right now he knew what he had to do.

As predicted, the washracks were empty. Bumblebee turned on one of the showers, to make it look like he had actually come in here for a wash before his mission. Then he unsubspaced the blade.

 _Okay, you can do this,_ Bumblebee thought, trying to work up his courage.

He was damned if he didn't and damned if he did, but at least this way he was buying himself a little more time. If he went through with the mission Jazz had given him, he would likely die and possibly get Mirage killed as well. Really, he was doing them a favor.

 _Here goes nothing_. The yellow mech sucked in a deep vent and dug the dagger into his leg, yanking up to create a gash.

He bit his lip to keep from crying out too soon. Damn this hurt.

Slashing it again across his chest plates, he made sure to make it deep enough to look bad but not deep enough to be life threatening. For the finishing touches he lacerated his arm as well, but actually severed the joints (no problem though, the robots could just replace their body parts. He didn't need a permanent setback, just a temporary one). The dagger was quickly washed off and stored in his sunspace.

Only then did he jump into the shower to get decently wet. His own energon dribbled mingled with water down his frame, and Bumblebee yelled like he was being attacked. The floor was slippery so he purposely let himself slip, creating a tremendous crash to go with the shouting. Half a minute later the washrack door slid open and two random soldiers rushed in. They had heard the commotion.

"What's going on?" One demanded while the other immediately commed Medbay. Bumblebee groaned, "...Ravage...I didn't see him..coming."

One of them transformed his hand into a gun. "Where did the coward go?!"

"That vent." Bumblebee mumbled, clutching his arm. He didn't have to fake being in pain. That was real.

Ratchet arrived shortly after and about blew a circuit at all the energon on the floor. He lifted Bumblebee in his arms and carried him back to the medbay.

" _Ravage_! If I had a credit for every time that fragging slaghead has broken into base…." Bumblebee listened to the medic rant as he was hooked up to an energon IV. It seemed Ratchet was buying the story.

"Slag, this arm will take joors to repair. I don't know if I have the necessary connectors." Ratchet said, examining the torn up appendage. "Perhaps Wheeljack can fabricate the parts."

Bumblebee didn't know who that was, though the name sounded familiar. Was Wheeljack another medic?

"How long will that take?" Bumblebee asked, feigning disappointment. "I have a mission coming up-"

 _WHAM._ "Not any more you glitch."

"Hey!" Bumblebee yelped, rubbing his helm where the medic's wrench had hit it. "What the _**hell**_ Ratchet! The frag was that for?"

Bumblebee's optics widened minutely. He hadn't meant that outburst, or to use an English word. Everyone knew to beware the Hatchet's wrench. H-he knew that.

On his part, Ratchet just stared at the little mech for a moment. Had he heard right? Had that little shit just yelled at him? At _him_? The mech who was repairing his sorry aft?

It actually kind of hurt. Bumblebee never yelled at anyone.

But then the moment was gone and he smacked Bumblebee a second time for good measure. "Don't make me fuse your vocal cords you ungrateful glitch!"

 _Man_ , Bumblebee thought. _Shouldn't have said that._ It seemed like Ratchet was going out of his way to be _NOT_ gentle with the rest of his repairs. Bumblebee clenched his denta. _Damnit, you're an alien warrior, you've been through worse. And you asked for this._

Jazz never came to visit him, though some time later Mirage did. The streamlined noble regarded him with a cool look.

" _What?"_

"You are aware this means you will not be able to complete the mission?" He said quietly, aloof.

Bumblebee put on his best glare. "I fragging realize." He tried to look disappointed. Really he was thinking _You bet your ass this means I'm not going on that mission and you can't make me._

Mirage raised an optic ridge. He had worked with Bumblebee a long time, and had never really known him to needlessly swear. For a split second, he thought he saw fire in the scout's optics, an emotion that was quickly hid but not in time to go unnoticed. And he knew. There was no Ravage.

Stiffly the noble said, "Jazz sends his regrets as well, but he is unfortunately busy at the moment," before taking his leave. As he strode away, his thoughts swirled.

He knew that emotion. It was smug satisfaction. Like the little mech was proud to be getting away with something. Mirage had played politics enough times before the war to see through a facade now.

But getting away with what? Why had Bumblebee reason to lie? Was he protecting the true culprit of his injuries? Had _he_ caused his injuries? Too what gain? Mirage, dare he say it, had grown to be friends if not an ally of Bumblebee. If this was some kind of personal problem telling their superiors - and wouldn't _Ratchet_ be mad - wouldn't fix it. Then again, by jeopardizing his role in the mission Bumblebee had put the Autobot's cause second to whatever was going on. If Bumblebee was a traitor it was Mirage's duty to report him. Couldn't have one of those loose in Special Ops.

No, he would wait. Observe for now, then report his findings. Maybe. After he went on this mission.

* * *

It was a slow day in the medbay. Ratchet was apparently fed up with him because First Aid had attended him the rest of the time since his outburst. Did Ratchet suspect…? No, he was probably just angry.

The scout was released in due time with a brace on his injured arm, since that Wheeljack guy hadn't yet finished the necessary parts to fix it. First things first - Bumblebee went to the rec room. He'd had it up to here with medgrade energon.

"Hey, Bumblebee." Someone called behind him, and Bumblebee turned away from the dispenser to see who it was. A short, red mech was waving him over to his table, where two other minibots also sat.

"What's up Cliffjumper?" Bumblebee said easily, sliding into the booth across from him. _If this is Cliffjumper the brown guy must be Brawn_ , he surmised.

Cliffjumper briefly glanced up. "I dunno, the ceiling?"

"Nevermind, dumb joke." Bumblebee recovered.

Brawn elbowed him. "Looks like you've been having some fun."

"Damn mech, what happened?" The third guy, who Bumblebee couldn't quiet put a name to yet, asked. Bumblebee shrugged.

"This? This is nothing. Ravage thought he could get the jump on me, but he won't be coming back any time soon. That's for sure."

"Then that scum got away? Too bad." Cliffjumper sympathized. "If he'd attacked me there wouldn't be enough pieces for even Ratchet to put back together."

"Please."

"What's that supposed to mean Windcharger?"

Brawn interrupted, "Speaking of fun, guess who's back in base?"

"Ooh, oooh, pick me!" Cliffjumper laughed, raising his hand. "One of the femme squads."

"It's a damn shame most of them are already taken." Windcharger lammented.

Brawn shrugged. "But I know there at least ten femmes on base that aren't, since Elita's group is also here."

"Nine. I have dibs on that one." Cliffjumper corrected, shrugging a red shoulder to the right. Everyone at the table subtly glanced in the indicated direction, where several femmes sat at a corner table enjoying their evening rations.

"Which one? The red one?" Brawn asked, taking glances.

"No no, That's Firestar, she's already sparkmates with Security Director. I ain't about to be put in the brig for life. I'm talking about the green one."

"She's cute." Nodded Windcharger amiably. Brawn grinned. "Eh, not my type."

"Pffft, _you_ have a _type_?" Cliffjumper choked, nearly spitting out his energon. " _Do_ tell."

"That's business."

Cliffjumper pressed, " _What_ business?"

"None of yours." Brawn snapped.

"You're being awfully quiet 'Bee, what's that matter? Ravage got your glossa?" Windcharger said, having noticed the scout's unusual silence. Bumblebee just squinted at him. Wat.

"No?"

"You seem upset."

"I'm not."

"He's probably mad 'cause he knows he doesn't have chance with the ladies while I'm around." Cliffjumper snickered.

Bumblebee smirked. "If I did have a problem, that definitely wouldn't be it."

Everyone (minus Cliffjumper) laughed, and Brawn chuckled, "That's the Bumblebee I know."

That was when the brilliant screech of the base alarms went off. People throughout the rec room immediately jumped up, a few spilling their energon on accident.

"Slag it, not while I'm refueling." Whined Brawn, gulping down the rest of his cube like a mech. Cliffjumper agreed, capping and subspacing his own while adding "This better not be another one of Prowl's drills."

Bumblebee was an idiot and had knocked his energon over. As everyone else quickly went to man their assigned stations, he bent over to pick it up off the floor. When he got up he bumped into someone.

" _ **Sorry."**_ A red and orange femme said out of habit though she kept moving, even quickening her pace at the slip.

It took Bumblebee all of .3 seconds to realize he had heard an English word, and then he was fighting through the crowd after her.

"Hey, wait!" He yelled, but it was drowned out by the excited talking of everyone else. Were they being attacked? Was this an intruder? A drill?

The crowd thinned out as people turned off into different hallways and directors to get to their stations. Bumblebee had no intention of going to his, nor did he even know where it was in such an emergency. That femme...that femme had said "Sorry" to him. In _English_! He had _heard_ , damnit!

He was catching up to her. What did those doofuses say her name was? Flame-Star? Starfire? Firestar?

Running up to her he grabbed her arm. "Firestar!"

Her momentum forcibly halted, she spun around and snatched it back, barking " _What?"_

Bumblebee gulped - man he better not be wrong.

"You...what did you say? When I bumped into you an Astro-second ago back there-"

"I said I was _sorry_ you creep!" She snapped, turning away from him.

" **But in** _ **English**_ **."**

She froze midstep at those three, damning words. Slowly faced him. A look of horror graced her cream colored faceplates. " **H** - **how do you…?"**

" **Not here"** Bumblebee said, shaking his head. He switched back to Cybertronian. "We can discuss this later. Not in the open like this, and besides. I'm guessing you need to be at your station to keep up the charade, right? Meet me at room 34 on level 7 when this is over. _Okay_?"

Her optics went as wide as they would go. She nodded dumbly, saying "O-okay" over the alarms.

Her comm buzzed and she mentally clicked it on, still staring at this yellow stranger who stared back and also somehow _knew_.

-Firestar where are you? Are you okay?-

"I'm fine!" Firestar told Chromia a little too quickly. The yellow guy was leaving, probably going to his station or whatever.

-You coming to your post or what?-

"I'm on my way. Firestar out."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Bumblebee poked his head into Ironhide's berthroom. Empty. Sweet. Lord knows what the big mech would think if he caught him and Firestar talking alone in gibberish.

Where _was_ Firestar anyway? Bumblebee had holed up in his room as soon as the alert - which turned out to be just a drill - ended. Before then he had hid in the washracks like the coward he was, because he had no freaking clue where he was supposed to be and wasn't about to get found and asked.

To be honest he didn't know who would show up. It could be Chromia, Ironhide, Firestar, or a security officer to escort him to Prowl's office. It was his understanding that Prowl was the disciplinary officer, and surely there had to be consequences to not being wherever he was supposed to be during that drill.

 _KNOCK KNOCK_

That had to be her. He was pretty sure knocking was a human thing. The mechs just flared their EM fields to make known their incoming presence, or commed to be let in. Still he was cautious as he hit the main door's 'open' button.

Standing outside the now open doorway and looking distinctly uncomfortable at being on the officer's level, the orange-red femme attempted a smile. "Hi? _Whoa_!"

Bumblebee, after checking to see if the coast was clear (it was), had quickly pulled her inside.

" **Did anyone follow you here?"** He asked rapidly.

" **No. I mean, I don't think so."**

Bumblebee sighed in relief, though he was still paranoid. He eyed the femme, a stranger. How did she fit in all this?

A heavy, awkward silence descended on the pair. Firestar broke it first. " **God, you have no** _ **idea**_ **how good it is to hear English again. I thought I was just going crazy and made all that stuff about Earth and being human up. Or, maybe you do…?"**

" **You're the only other one I've met so far."** Bumblebee admitted. Then he shrugged a yellow plated shoulder toward the couch. Only officers were allowed to have such "luxurious" leisure furniture in their quarters. Ironhide really liked that couch. " **Maybe we should sit down?"**

" **Huh? Yes."** Firestar agreed, going to take a seat. Her yellow host sat on the other end, putting a modest amount of space between them.

Another tense silence.

Firestar fidgeted. " **So, uh, how long have you been here. As, you know...a robot."** She finished lamely.

" **Honestly? I'm not sure. These guys have a different time standard than Earth. If I had to guess, a few months? Maybe two?"** Bumblebee estimated. It felt like a lifetime. " **What about you?"**

" **Probably close to that. Around one and a half I think."**

Bumblebee nodded. " **Do you have any idea what's happening to us? What we're doing here?"**

Firestar seemed dismayed at the question. " **No clue. Damn, I was hoping** _ **you**_ **could tell** _ **me**_ **. You don't remember how this happened either?"**

" **No. I really wish I did, but I don't."**

" **Well that's just great."** Firestar breathed, relaxing slightly into the couch now that she knew (or had at least been told) that this stranger was in the same boat. She leaned back, resting her arm on the couch's armrest. Glanced over. " **Hey."**

" **What?"**

" **Who else around here knows? Just you? Are these even your quarters, we're on the officer's level."**

Bumblebee unsubspaced the energon dagger he had used to maim himself earlier and toyed with it. " **Nobody. And these are actually my creator-sorry, my parent's quarters. Ironhide's an officer. Really high up on the chain of command too."**

Firestar nodded. " **Oh."**

Bumblebee looked at her. " **Why, does anyone know about** _ **you**_ **?"**

" **Well,** _ **Yeah**_ **."**

" _ **What**_ **!"** Bumblebee yelled, sitting bolt upright. Startled Firestar immediately stood up, alert. She eyed him warily. " **What?"**

" **You told one of the robots about you? Why would you** _ **do**_ **that?!"**

" **Relax! She won't tell anyone. And I needed someone on my side, someone to at least tell me what I was supposed to be doing out there. She kind of guessed I wasn't the same person anyway."**

Bumblebee still gaped at her. Someone knew. Someone freaking knew about them, or at least about her. And now Firestar knew about him. " **And...and this person was** _ **okay**_ **with it?"** He questioned cautiously.

" **Well obviously** _ **not**_ **,"** Firestar snapped. " **But I convinced her the only way to get the real Firestar back was to not get me killed by blabbing to everyone. I mean, I-we're in the middle of a war here."** Her optics took on a hard look. " **They would have assumed I was a Decepticon infiltrator, or worse,** _ **believed**_ **her, and then I would have been shot or locked away."** Her voice wavered, " **She's-She's Firestar's best friend."**

" **Oh."** Was all Bumblebee said. He rubbed his faceplates, and Firestar decided to sit back down. After another long minute she said " **What about you?"**

" **What** _ **about**_ **me?"**

" **You mentioned a parent. How has he not seen that you're not one of them? And your coworkers, do they suspect? What's your function on base anyway?"**

Bumblebee smiled. " **That's classified."**

" _ **Really**_ **?"** Firestar deadpanned sarcastically.

Bumblebee threw up his hands in mock surrender. " **No, really! I-the person I woke up as works for**

 **Special Ops. I'm an officer in it, actually - though the lowest ranked."**

The orange and red femme burst out laughing.

" **You're a *** _ **HAHA***_ _**spy**_ **! That's too good! So have you like, done any of that James Bond type shit? *** _ **HAHAHAHA**_ ***."**

" **This situation isn't funny!"** Bumblebee growled. " **And I'm actually a scout. Mirage is more the spy type -** _ **shit**_ **I wasn't supppsed to say that."**

Firestar stopped laughing and grinned at his mistake. " **Trust me, there's a lot of things I shouldn't have said either - I don't know how no one else has caught on yet. Ah, well. Maybe I should just come clean about it."** She giggled. " **I was never that good at acting."**

" **You can't."**

Firestar's smile faded somewhat. " **Why not?"**

Bumblebee sighed. " **It's like you said - they'd lock us up for sure. Maybe experiment on us, or pick our processor's apart. My boss is particularly good at that."**

" **What?!"** Firestar gasped. " **These people seem better than that. At least the Autobots** _ **I've**_ **met do."** She defended.

Bumblebee pinned her with a serious look. " **These are aliens we're talking about. Fucking** _**aliens**_ **. Who knows what they'd do to us? Hello, this is literally "Invasion of the body-snatchers" here, and** _ **we're**_ **the invaders!"**

" **We - I mean - but it's not like we're here on** _ **purpose**_ **."** Firestar stated, looking guilty, almost sad. " **I would give anything to be back home right now and away from this nightmare. God, I bet my parents are looking for me right now. Maybe they've even assumed I'm dead."**

" **Yeah."** Bumblebee agreed dejectedly. " **I was supposed to graduate high school in a few months."**

" **Really? I have another year before I graduate."** His companion said. She seemed to cheer up at the thought that they had that in common too. Weird, they were both young then. Did that have something to do with it?

The yellow mech interrupted her thoughts, saying,

" **What...what's your name? Your human one?"**

Firestar's lips curved upward in a slight smile. " **I'm-It's Riley. I'm Riley."**

" **Scott."** Bumblebee said, sticking out a hand. " **But around here I'm known as Bumblebee."** They shook hands. Firestar sighed, putting hers back down flat against the cushion she sat on. It was a soft, almost leathery material, though of course there were no animals on Cybertron. Like smooth, soft plastic.

" **What are we, Scott? What are we _doing_ here?"** She asked. It took him a moment to come up with an answer.

" **We're** _ **Pretenders**_ **."**

* * *

Let me know what you think readers! Any suggestions? feedback is appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

"So...there's this mech," Firestar began awkwardly, not sure how delicately she should put this. "He'd really appreciate a training session alone with you."

"I bet he would." Moonracer laughed, slowing down so that she and Firestar drifted a little behind the others. They were headed to the femme quarters for the first time since arriving at the lunar base. Talk about a busy day orn! With arrival, a meeting with Chromia's squad, and then that drill and all. Personally Firestar couldn't wait to get some rest. She had a lot to think about.

"Is he cute?"

"Huh? Yeah...but that's beside the point!" Firestar said quickly. "He's like _me_ , Moonracer."

That wiped the smile off Moonracer's face. She glanced ahead, but the others weren't paying them any attention. "You said you were the only one!" She whispered.

"I _thought_ I was. I just ran into him earlier today!"

" _Oh_ so _that's_ where you were after the drill?"

"Yeah."

Moonracer frowned, contemplating. Another alien disguised among them (if what "Firestar" said was true), and she was the only one who knew. "What's he want with _me_?"

"Not you personally, just the training. Everyone else thinks he's already a decent fighter, which he's not. Kinda like how I didn't know what I was doing before you helped me. Another _civilian_."

" _Uh-huh_." Moonracer snorted.

"Hey I'm _serious_!" Firestar said as they rounded the corner after the rest of their squad.

"Serious about what?" Elita asked from where she lounged next to the barracks entrance.

Firestar paused and realized she might have said that last bit a little too loud. What was this asshole doing just waiting around?

"Some guy told me he thought Moonracer was cute." Firestar said jokingly, even adding in a giggle. "Hard to believe, right?"

Elita chuckled while Moonracer elbowed her as she slipped past their commander into the barracks. _Way to convince her to help you_ , Firestar thought at herself as she entered the room as well. Looks like she had her work cut out for her.

"You'd rather sleep in here with us than with your sparkmate? That's cold, Firestar." Someone laughed. Firestar shared a look with Moonracer, who was already unpacking some of her subspaced belongings next to her chosen berth.

Say what.

Greenlight, lying down on a top bunk near them, propped herself up on an elbow to ask cheekily, "What'd he _do_? Personally I'd _love_ to have a washrack and berthroom to myself."

"We'd prefer you had a washrack to yourself too." The person setting up below her snarked.

" _Are_ you staying in here?" Another femme, Lanerunner, asked. Judging by their tone and expectant expressions the answer was no, and Firestar quickly said accordingly "No, no! I was actually about to head over there, but got caught up talking to Moonracer."

-Way to throw me under the shuttle.- The green femme privately commed.

Lanerunner sighed, "Must be _great_ to have a your sparkmate on the same base for once."

-Oh give me a break, Moonracer. Pretending to be one of you isn't easy, okay? And why didn't you _tell_ me I had a sparkmate?!-

"-I bet you too having seen each other in _ages_." Behind Lanerunner Moonracer had unsubspaced her sniper rifle and was taking it apart for maintenance on her bunk.

-I was kinda busy making sure you didn't get yourself killed! And you claim you have Firestar's memories. You didn't notice?-

Awkwardly Firestar responded, "You could say that" to make sure Lanerunner wouldn't think she was ignoring her. Juggling two conversations at once was hard. And Moonracer was giving her the raised optic ridge behind the pink femme's back, so Firestar commed in explanation,

-There were more important ones to look at, like how to shoot and transform and drive on two wheels and who the slag you people even were. I haven't even had a _chance_ to really delve deeper into Firestar's memories, not that I want to. I'm so screwed.-

-Screwed?-

-Fragged.-

-In which way?-

"See you guys later." Firestar said out loud, ending her secret conversation with Moonracer before it could get any further. To Firestar's credit she didn't once show her inner worry at this new social dynamic as she exited the room.

Moonracer wore a smirk as she watched "Firestar" go. Show time bitch. Let's see you convince _Inferno_.

As for herself, Moonracer wasn't entirely sure she trusted the imposter. Honestly? The whole thing was nuts. While she wasn't going to outright spill the bolts until she felt that keeping the secret wouldn't help the _real_ Firestar's chances - whatever they were and wherever she was - she wasn't this fake Firestar's sparkling-sitter either.

* * *

 _Stay calm, stay calm, you can do it. If Bumblebee could fake getting maimed by a robot cat to get out of a spy mission you can damn well fake your way through this._

Except she wasn't so sure. Inferno could ask or hint at any number of things shared between them, and she might not get it. Presently, after leaving the other femmes, she was chilling in a random hallway, having realized she had no idea where their quarters even were.

Oh, that's right. Inferno was Security Director. He probably had an officer's quarters, maybe even somewhere close to Bumblebee's own. _That gives me an idea…._

-Quick question.-

-Shoot.-

-Do you know where Inferno's quarters are?-

Bumblebee said, -Hold on- , and Firestar figured he must be asking someone. That was fine, it didn't look weird when anyone but the person who was supposed to be the guy's _wife_ was the one asking.

-Same floor as me, but six doors down and to the right.-

-Thanks.-

-No problem. Quick question?-

-What?-

-You're bonded to this Inferno guy, right?-

-Bonded? He's my "sparkmate". What do you mean, bonded?-

-Never mind, you can look up the full definition later. But whatever you do, don't bond with him. Bumblebee was bonded to Ironhide as a sort of creator-sparkling thing, but I closed it because it lets you feel each other's emotions. Sort of like an empathic connection. A bond would be a dead giveaway that you're not Firestar, Firestar.-

-I don't plan to **fucking** _bond_ with him!- Firestar swore, having just looked up what bonding was on the alien's datanet and immediately regretting it. She was never getting _those_ images out of her processor.

-Just a warning- Her fellow yellow compatriot snickered, probably guessing that she had looked it up just now anyway. Now with a destination in mind the red femme resumed her trek through the halls.

Firestar smashed the button for the lift, nervously tapping her ped in her impatience. S-she wouldn't have to go _that_ far with this charade, right? From what she had seen of Inferno in Firestar's memories he seemed like a nice enough guy. Surely the real Firestar wasn't married to some douchebag - her friend Moonracer seemed normal enough.

The lift stopped and Firestar briefly enjoyed that moment of weightlessness that always accompanies an ascending elevator. She treaded lightly in the hallway, wary at again being in an area designated for officers. There it was, room 40. Was honey dearest already home? Man, all she wanted was to take a nap, Inferno be damned.

Surprisingly the doors to Inferno's quarters slid open when she walked up to them. Some Security Director _he_ was. But then, there was such a thing as programming certain devices to unlock or activate around specific spark signatures.

Seemed like a lot of effort to avoid typing in an access code, and she vented a sigh of relief, counting herself lucky. How long would she have stood out here, combing 'her' memories for the password? Then again this place was built by _robots_. Couldn't they just automate everything and be done with it?

It was a spacious living room that greeted her, almost exactly like the one in Bumblebee/Ironhide's quarters. One of those plasticky couches along with a table sat squarely in its middle. There was a closed door to the left and right of her, and after inspecting the living room Fireflight chose to check out the left one first. There's that washrack Greenlight had been teasing about.

 _You know, I could use a shower_ , Firestar thought, turning away to investigate the other door connecting to the main room.

The motion detecting (presumably) lights cut on when she opened the door, revealing several shelves attached to the wall and a single, large berth taking up most of the space. Firestar felt herself freeze up. Fuck.

Was that her berth? It was her berth. No, _their_ berth, and Firestar mentally hissed at the thought.

Maybe she could sleep on the couch? Fuck that, she wanted a nice warm berth after spending her first weeks as a robot recharging on the ground and in improvised shelters between the fighting and besides, she had to stay in character.

But what if Inferno came home while she was sleeping? She so did _not_ want to wake up to some robot guy she hadn't even met cuddling her. Eww.

Which side was she supposed to sleep on, anyway? Did the couple _have_ predetermined sides? Maybe she should just pick one.

God, she was making this way more complicated than it needed to be.

Suddenly blocky red arms wrapped around her, gently pulling her close while abruptly yanking her out of her thoughts, and a happy voice murmured right next to her audio: " _I missed you_."

* * *

 **As always, I'd love to get feedback on the chapter!**


	7. Chapter 7

" _I missed you_."

Firestar nearly froze up in terror, but out of sheer willpower alone plastered on a fake smile and slowly twisted so that she was hugging her red Sparkmate. "I missed you too."

A large servo affectionately traced her faceplates. Awkwardly she peeked up at him and was dumbstruck how relieved he looked to see her. Firestar had to fight her instincts to stay still and look like she was happy to see him too, and not terrified that what amounted to a stranger was touching her like they were _married_ or something.

...Oh wait, they were.

"How was the mission?" Inferno asked, stepping back and giving her a little more space but still too close for comfort. "I heard Chromia suffered some injuries. Ironhide did too. Ratchet's nearly glitching like 'Red trying to keep those two apart while she's recovering." He laughed, a rich tenor sound, and Firestar giggled with him, though she had no idea what was so funny about someone glitching. Was that the robot equivalent to fainting? She'd ask Moonracer. _Wait, he asked you a question. Answer it, dummy!_

Realizing she hadn't answered him yet, Firestar stuttered, "Good. I mean, no, not good - going on a mission is never easy, but at least everyone came back in one piece this time." Damn, that was a good save. Firestar glanced at her arm, which still had some singed plating from a grenade she'd almost failed to notice were it not for Moonracer's shout of " _DUCK_ _DUMBASS_!"'

"Well, mostly one piece."

Inferno gave the second degree burn a surprised glance and gently held her arm to get a better look at its plating. "Why hasn't Ratchet repaired this?" He sounded both amused and affronted.

"Probably because he doesn't know about it yet." Admitted Firestar. "With the unloading and then that stupid drill and then _Bumblebee_ \- it's been a busy orn." She realized her mistake too late. Hopefully Inferno wouldn't notice the slip.

"Bumblebee?" Inferno echoed. Aaaaaaand he noticed. Observational, this one.

Firestar waved him off the subject. "It's nothing. I ran into him - literally - during the drill. Neither of us were watching where we were going and it was pretty epic. You should have seen it." She grinned ruefully as though she were remembering crashing into the ground, when no such thing had taken place. It was as close to the truth as she could tell him anyway.

Inferno chuckled at the image, then on a more serious note said, "You really should get that looked at. Generally everyone gets a checkup following field work."

"I know. Aaaand I will. Tomorrow. What? I _will_." Firestar asserted at Inferno's knowing, doubtful expression. She laughed, "All I want to do tonight is get a warm shower and power down for the next million Vorns."

 _And not do anything else tonight_ , Firestar thought, really hoping the mech would take the hint. _Or for that matter, any other night._

Inferno nodded, completely understanding where his Sparkmate was coming from. Before he'd been made Security Director he'd sometimes come back from missions feeling like all he wanted was to crawl under a rock. Inferno rubbed one of the little triangle winglets adorning her back (they were a part of her two-wheeled alt mode; he'd always thought they were cute), and smiled, saying, "Allow me to help with that. I know you can't reach these."

Firetstar gave him a confused look, then figured he was talking about being able to reach her winglets in the shower. "S-sure." She stuttered, her cooling fans kicking in. She smoothed out her voice; purred: "I'd like that."

It would be fine. _It would be fine_ , Firestar told herself. She wasn't even taking her armor off, just getting a quick wash before recharge. Surely things couldn't get that intimate in there. She was unaware that it was actually a culturally accepted thing to help others wash; many mechs' frames were built in such a way that it was impossible to reach and clean some parts, so showering together wasn't seen as something intimate like it was on Earth.

* * *

"-and then we went to recharge. Apparently Firestar sleeps on the left side of the berth." Firestar mentioned extraneously, finishing her tale. Bumblebee whistled and set down his energon cube.

" _Damn_. Having him clean your shoulder thingies sounds awkward as hell. You have it sooo much worse than I do right now." He said, bowing his helm to her in mock deference.

Firestar huffed through her vents. "It's not a contest to see who's got it worse. Besides, doesn't your **dad** have cannons the size of your _face_? Think he won't be happy to use those when he finds out who you really are?"

Bumblebee shrugged. "He's a little distracted to be murdering me at the moment. I'm probably a horrible person for saying this, but I'm so glad Chromia's injured. Both Ironhide and Ratchet are ignoring me right now, and you know what? It feels _good_." Bumblebee did the cha cha in his seat to emphasize his point, winced, then put his arms back down, laying his damaged arm in its sling on the table. "I even got _Jazz_ off my back. At least until this heals."

Firestar couldn't help but laugh. "You _are_ a terrible person. At least have a little sympathy, Chromia's your caretaker." She took a sip of her own morning ration, wiped her mouth, and said, "Uh...who's Jazz?"

Bumblebee's optics widened a little. " **FYI,** You should really know that since you're like the Security Director's wife or something. He's the head of Special Ops and Third in Command, and probably knows more ways to kill me than Prowl has reports to finish. Though he'll have to get in line behind Ironhide and Ratchet."

"And _he's_ your _boss_?" Firestar gasped. "How on **Earth** has he not noticed you're completely useless?"

"Because currently I'm completely useless?" Bumblebee guessed, grinning. "Can't notice your spy doesn't know how to spy if he isn't spying."

"You said you were a scout."

"Officially, yes. The fact that I 'scout' for Jazz's department is kept on the down-low."

"Oh." Firestar said, sitting back in her seat. Her digits drummed against the cube she held as she eyed the rest of the rec room, very sparsely populated given it was the ass-crack of dawn and over half of the personnel probably didn't eat breakfast. She had woken up to find Inferno cuddled around her - eww - and well, there wasn't any sleep to be had after that. After sneaking out she had commed Scott to see if he was up and they'd agreed to have breakfast together.

"What are you going to do?"

"Huh?" Bumblebee mumbled around his drink, looking up.

Firestar stopped staring about the rec room to cast sapphire blue optics on him. "When your arm's fixed, I mean. You can't keep 'mysteriously' getting injured or whatever you told them, that'd be suspicious."

Bumblebee tilted his head. "I haven't exactly gotten that far yet. Didn't you say your friend could show me how to fight? I've been really working on my aim since I went on leave, but I don't know what to do in actual combat."

"I haven't exactly gotten that far yet." Firestar repeated. She suddenly smirked. "Speak of the **devil**."

At the English word and her bemused expression, Bumblebee turned in his seat to see who she was looking at. A green and white femme was headed their way and looking mightily intent upon something. She approached their table.

"Good orn Bumblebee."

"Good orn." Bumblebee acknowledged. Dammit, what was her name again? It was on the tip of his tongue.

The stranger kept looking at Firestar like she was something entertaining. "Mind if I join you?"

"I'd rather you didn't." Firetar muttered at the same time that Bumblebee agreed "sure" and scooted over. Promptly the stranger said, "Thanks" and sat down, giving Firestar a not so subtle look of 'deal with it'.

"What are you two doing up so early?" The femme asked innocently.

"Apparently, talking to you." Bumblebee laughed, putting on his most charming 'I'm-totally-not-an-alien' smile. He glanced across the table at Firestar, and was taken aback by the displeased look she directed at him. Pit, What did _he_ do?

The turquoise femme inspected her fingers, before leaning forward to ask coyly, "So. Did you _convince_ him?" The way she said that and winked had Firestar blushing and stuttering, " _N-no_! Moonracer, Nothing, nothing happened! Not like _that_."

" _Really_?" Moonracer drawled, enjoying every moment of Not-Firestar's discomfort. Messing with her was too easy.

Bumblebee kept glancing between the two of them, wondering how this femme could possibly know Firestar had to convince Inferno of anything, but then he put two and two together. So _this_ was that friend who knew.

"Haha, I said that too!" Bumblebee laughed, putting his cube down and rejoining the conversation. "She _did_ say she took a shower with him though, so you could say things got 'steamy'." He laughed again at his stupid pun, but immediately shut up when he noticed the equally horrified looks both femmes were giving him.

Firetstar wanted to melt into her seat and die. After she killed Scott.

"Are you malfunctioning?" Moonracer snapped in her silence, tempted to slap the yellow idiot. It wasn't like Bumblebee to make such inappropriate jokes. "That was inappropriate!"

Bumblebee held up his hands. "Shhhh, Whoa whoa whoa, not so loud - I was joking. It was a pun. Don't you people have _puns_ on this planet? Obviously **Riley** would never do anything like that to convince Inferno she's the real Firestar."

"Uh…" Was all Moonracer could say. She squinted at Bumblebee for an astrosecond, lost for words, then whipped her helm around to look at Firestar accusingly.

" _He's_ the other one?!"

Firestar facepalmed. "Yes."

Gaping, Moonracer slowly turned back to Bumblebee, now wanting to slap him even more. Or run away screaming. "This...this isn't funny." She deadpanned, glaring daggers at him.

"Great, cause I'm not laughing." Bumblebee snarked. He took a sip of his sparkling energon, still maintaining optic-contact with the flabbergasted femme (though on the inside he was terrified she would start screaming or calling security or something), and Moonracer blinked.

" _Highgrade_?"

Bumblebee tilted his cube. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

This was not happening. _Primus, this was not happening_ , Moonracer thought distantly. She had liked Bumblebee, even if she and him were never really that close. He'd always been a good kid.

"Wait? That's highgrade?" Moonracer heard Firestar say.

"Yeah?" Not-Bumblebee replied. Firestar tried to snatch the cube away, but the scout was faster and held it out of reach.

" **Dude** , stop drinking that! What are you thinking, getting overcharged at breakfast?" Firestar said when her attempt to grab it failed. The foreign word dragged Moonracer's attention back to them.

"That isn't healthy." Moonracer agreed monotonically, still shell shocked that Bumblebee of all people had been kidnapped or...whatever these things did to people. What did one say to that?

"Don't knock it till you try it. It's the closest thing to tasting like **sugar** around here and I'm not drinking enough to get 'charged. I already figured out Bumblebee's limit it three cubes and I'm only having one." Bumblebee informed Firestar. "Besides, I'm trying something new."

Annoyed, Firestar hissed, "What's that, being an **alcoholic**?"

"I was referring to the drink." Bumblebee said, rolling his optics. "Get yours laced with copper next time, you won't regret it."

Finally collecting her wits during the pointless exchange, Moonracer started, "You…"

They both shut up and focused on her.

"You, does...does Ironhide, does he know?" Moonracer asked. And Chromia, what would Chromia think? They'd be devastated.

"Nope, and you can't tell him for the same reason you can't blab on her." Bumblebee said.

" _Excuse_ me?" Moonracer snarled at his tone, abruptly standing up. How dare this imposter talk to her like that!

Sensing her thoughts, Firestar quickly amended, "What he means is his position here is...tenuous. If you tell on him there's a lot of people who would react poorly, and if anything happens to him he might not be able to switch back with the real Bumblebee."

"Yeah, believe me," Bumblebee said, "there's nothing I want more than to go home. If I get shot or put in stasis that won't happen. We don't want to be here anymore than you want us to be, we don't even know _why_ this is happening."

He held out his uninjured servo. "Please, give me a chance. I promise, we'll get Firestar and Bumblebee _back_. We just need time."

Moonracer regarded the offered hand coolly, tempted to just run to Prowl and be done with it. Or Inferno. At least his reaction would be priceless - and swift. But if they were telling the truth, if they really _hadn't_ meant to come here and just wanted to go home...she took his hand.

"Come on."

Bumblebee blinked. "What?"

"I said come on. _You're_ buying me a drink."

"I am?" Bumblebee asked, looking at Firestar, but she seemed as confused as he was.

Moonracer dropped his hand to put both of hers on her hips. "You _did_ just say copper laced highgrade was the way to go, right? If you don't want me to tell you're going to buy me one right now."

"Oh, that is _petty_." Bumblebee said darkly. Moonracer smirked. "Well?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming." The yellow mech grumbled, grabbing his cube and scooting out of the booth. They crossed the large room to where Huffer stood behind the bar and Bumblebee smiled, said, "Another one of these if you don't mind."

Moonracer grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers around his. "Can I get extra copper, 'Bee?" She asked cutely.

"Make it extra copper." Bumblebee corrected, and Huffer nodded, going to fill a cube as requested.

Moonracer dropped his servo like it was acid the moment Huffer turned away, and Bumblebee scowled at her, which only served to make the green menace smile all the more. What was this bitch playing at?

Huffer returned with the highgrade and Bumblebee paid for it. When they got back to where Firestar was sitting Bumblebee sputtered, "What was that about?"

"What? You want to fit in, don't you? What's abnormal about a nice mech like you buying a femme a drink?"

"I didn't buy you squat; that was blackmail!"

"You don't seem to have any qualms about spending _Bumblebee's_ credits to buy yourself some, so what's the problem?"

Bumblebee made an irritated noise. He had nothing.

"Now tell me," Moonracer said after taking a sip of her ill gotten gains. "How did you get here? What have you been doing since then? Do you know where the real Bumblebee is? And the _slag_ did you do to your arm?"

* * *

 **Hey everyone! As always I'd love to get reviews or comments! Let me know what you think! Also, Stargazer360, thank you!**


	8. Chapter 8

-Hey Air Raid, you missed one!-

Slingshot stated over the comm, eyeing the ground from his position 1,000 meters above it. Below a Decepticon was sprinting for the nearest cover.

-No I didn't! The snipers were Fireflight's priority!-

The fighter jet defended.

A third voice chimed in,

-Well they're mine now,-

and an astrosecond later a black and grey jet swooped out of their formation to strafe the retreating enemy. He pulled back up with a frontal flip after his bullets hit their marks.

-Show off.- Someone muttered. It sounded like Slingshot.

-Like _you're_ one to talk.-

Their current objective of clearing the area complete, the four aerialbots circled back to make sure none of the enemy was left as well as to find temporary shelter. A rust storm was steadily approaching on the horizon; trying to fly in that would be impossible.

-Fireflight, get back in formation.- Silverbolt ordered, noting the fifth, smaller jet lagging behind them. After a second Fireflight put on a burst of speed and caught up.

-Sorry Silverbolt.-

-What happened with that sniper? That was _your_ objective.-

Silverbolt asked on a private commline. He wasn't one for chewing out his subordinates in front of the whole squad.

-Guess I was distracted.-

-Distractions get people killed, _rookie_.-

-Yes, Sir.-

Eventually Skydive picked a tall, battered building as their temporary refuge. The group landed on a balcony that jutted out from one of the higher floors.

"This site should be safe for now." The strategist was saying. "If more Decepticon reinforcements _do_ make an appearance during the storm, they won't know to look for us here, _and_ it's easily defendable."

"Err, you _sure_ this building is structurally sound Skydive?" Slingshot commented, wincing when he dropped out of alt mode and the balcony protested with a _creeeaak._

Skydive nodded, visor glinting. "We should be fine."

"Silverbolt."

Said commander turned to see who had addressed him. It was Fireflight. The younger mech wore a funny expression on his face, and asked quietly. "I..don't feel so good. Permission to power down for a few breems, sir." Silverbolt was taken aback by the odd request - one didn't take a fragging _nap_ in the middle of a battlefield - but supposed that since they were stuck here for the duration of the storm anyway the rookie might as well get some rest.

The others had taken up various positions in the main room of the suite connecting to the balcony - the building had once been a residential complex.

"Gimme that welder." Air Raid spoke as Skydive finished suturing a gash where a lucky 'Con's bullet had grazed his wing. Skydive tossed it to his wingmate and smiled behind his battle mask as Air Raid swore and nearly dropped the hot tool. He then unsubspaced a sealed energon ration.

"Think those slaggers are sending reinforcements?" Slingshot asked him as he broke the seal. Skydive dipped his uninjured wing in a shrug. "Most likely." He took a swig.

Skydive observed his teammates. Silverbolt was pacing in front of the balcony. He and Air Raid were sitting down (Air Raid having claimed the only decent chair left in the decrepit room), and Slingshot leaned against the far wall, fiddling with what looked like a grenade. After saying something to Silverbolt Fireflight had disappeared into a little side room, the curious glitch.

"Hey, storm's clearing up." Silverbolt said at length. Slingshot, Skydive, and Air Raid joined him on the balcony. It was still turbulent out there, but it would be manageable. Unfortunately that meant it would be manageable for the 'Cons, too.

"We'll split up, check the city perimeter." Silverbolt decided. "Skydive, check the Northern sector. Air Raid and Slingshot, scan for activity towards the South. I'll take the Western quadrant." He paused, noting Fireflight's absence.

" _Fireflight_!" he barked both out loud and over the comm. "Get your aft in gear and check the Eastern sector for hostiles! _Move_ _out_ , soldiers!"

With a whoop Slingshot threw himself over the balcony, enjoying that moment of zero gravity before transforming over empty space. Skydive and Air Raid likewise shifted into their alt modes, blasting off in their respective directions with Air Raid shouting, "Yo Slingshot! Wait up!"

Silverbolt took off, now focused on his own reconnaissance and confident that Fireflight would be right behind them.

* * *

When Fireflight woke up, the first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Grey, dull metal that looked nothing like his bedroom. He slowly sat up, confused.

Where was he?

" **...Hello?"**

Was that staticky voice _his_? He grabbed his throat but felt cool, smooth metal and tubing. A horrified glance down revealed the hand grabbing it looked nothing, _felt_ nothing, like a human hand was supposed to either.

" _ **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**_!"

He leaped to his blocky feet like a shot, stumbling over them and crashing to the floor with a spectacular clanging noise. Panicked, the mech struggled to his feet again as if doing so would get him out of or away from the robot. The wings on his back made finding his center of balance all the more difficult and he gripped the door frame for dear life.

Where-what was he- _how_?

He was calming down now, venting more slowly, and he began to think clearly. W-why was he so calm? He shouldn't be. He didn't even know where he was. And apparently, he was a robot? Or maybe in a robot suit. Was he on drugs?

The soothing feeling that had initially calmed him down now fully enveloped him. It felt so strange, like the emotion was coming from someone else. He was at once confused and comforted by it, unaware that it actually _was_ coming from someone else. Four someone elses to be exact, who had nearly been knocked out of the sky by the sheer panic and horror they had felt suddenly surge through their recently forged gestalt bond.

"PRIMUS FRAG!" Slingshot shrieked, almost colliding with a building but barrel rolling to avoid it in time. Air Raid zipped by him and immediately turned around.

Where he was, Silverbolt pulled up sharply, roaring,

-Fireflight, _REPORT_!-

- _We're_ _coming kid_!- That was Skydive. Slaggit, what had the idiot gotten himself into?

Of course, Fireflight had no clue how to use or answer his comm so they might as well have not even bothered.

Fireflight shuffled out of the room he had woken up in, soaking up every detail of this strange place. The bigger room had turned over chairs and what looked like a table with bullet holes in it. The floor was rusty. Was this like a living room or something? And why was everything made of metal? In the distance, a faint droning sound could be heard, steadily growing louder. What was _that_?

His question was answered a moment later when something slammed into the room through a window, almost giving him a heart attack. It was another robot. A very well armed robot.

"Fireflight! Primus, mech, I thought you were _dying_ or something! Where are they?"

Who? Fireflight stared at this newcomer, suddenly scared of this fierce looking stranger with guns for hands despite the calm feeling the others were projecting as they closed in on his position. He quickly backed away until the wing things jutting out of his back poked the far wall.

Slingshot lowered his firearms. "...Fireflight?"

Too thuds on the balcony outside, and Silverbolt and Skydive had arrived.

"What's going on?" Silverbolt demanded sternly, stomping past Slingshot to the youngest member of their group.

Wrong move.

" **Get away from me!"** Fireflight shrieked. In a panicked flurry of folding parts and sliding metal he was suddenly not a robot anymore but some kind of vehicle. At least the wings on his back made sense now.

The plane-thing's engine whined as he shot forward to ram himself headfirst into the opposite wall. Yes, he was some kind of hover device, Fireflight decided as he did drunken doughnuts in the air. That was cool, but he had no idea what he was doing. How had he changed into it? More importantly _how did he steer this thing?!_

He hit the ceiling and crashed back to the floor, spun around, and rolled into a table one of the four other robots now in the room had taken cover behind.

"What the slag? _Get off_ me!" Air Raid snarled, shoving Fireflight's vehicle form off him as well as bits of broken table.

"Fireflight, _stop_!" Silverbolt commanded in a no nonsense tone of voice that promised punishment later. When the wayward mech didn't answer him to continue smashing into things, he snapped, "Skydive, Air Raid, grab his wings! Pull him down!"

Slingshot leaped up, wrapping his arms around the middle of Fireflight's alt mode. The jet bucked under his weight, its movements as chaotic and uncoordinated as the terrified emotions Fireflight was projecting into their bond.

"A little help would be appreciated!" Slingshot yelled as his dangling peds scraped the floor. His brothers quickly jumped up in unison, each grabbing a wing. The combined weight of three people was too much for Fireflight, who couldn't properly utilize his engine indoors, and all four of them crashed to the floor.

Quickly Silverbolt stepped in and slapped an inhibitor on the grounded jet's engine, and with a sputtering sound it shut off.

"Change back you idiot!" Slingshot snapped in the silence following the cut off of Fireflight's thrusters. "You're surrounded!"

He was still straddling the jet in a wrestler'a hold with Skydive and Air Raid holding down each wing.

Silverbolt kneeled in front of the still vehicle. "Fireflight. What are you _doing_? Are you _glitched_?"

The small jet shuddered. " **No! Let me go!** _ **Somebody**_ _**Heeeeelp**_ **! Mooooooom"**

The foreign words sounded like gibberish to them. "What's that slag supposed to mean? Is your vocalizer broken?" Air Raid asked. He shut up at a look from Silverbolt.

Skydive observed the twitching jet he was helping pin down. "Perhaps he's been hacked?"

"It's possible." Silverbolt acknowledged.

The sound of a transformation could be heard as the jet underneath them suddenly shifted back into its root mode. The three of them let go, allowing Fireflight to transform and stand up dizzily between them. He was venting hard.

"Kid." Silverbolt said, gaining his attention immediately. Fireflight looked up at him wide-opticked.

"Do you know where you are?"

" **No."**

A pause. "Do you know who I am?"

Fireflight seemed to think about it for a minute before shakily whining, " **...No?"**

"Dude, his processor is totally _fried_." Slingshot snorted at Air Raid, sort of amused at the funny sounding gibberish despite the situation. Worriedly Fireflight whirled to see who was talking, and stumbled when the action moved his wings which caused the already exhausted mech to lose his balance.

Silverbolt snagged the kid's shoulders to keep him

from falling. "Focus. Look at me."

Apparently Fireflight didn't like that, because he tried to slap Silverbolt's servos away and irritably wailed,

" **Let me go you jerk!"**

His attempts to hit his perceived attacked were pitiful, and the completely unamused commander deflected his sloppy punches easily.

"Sedate him, Skydive." Silverbolt ordered, arresting both of Fireflight's arms between panicked, flimsy punches in one fluid motion. Fireflight didn't know who 'Skydive' was, but a second later he felt a prick on the back of his neck and nothingness claimed him.


	9. Chapter 9

Inferno's internal alarm sounded, ending his recharge. He raised his helm groggily, and glanced to his left only to see that the space beside him was empty. Again.

What was Firestar even _doing_ this early in the cycle? For the past few orns since she got back he had powered up to find her already gone, and she barely talked to him. Jeez, it was like she was _avoiding_ him or something.

No. That was ridiculous. Inferno couldn't think of a single thing he could have done on his part that would make her upset with him. Still, her absence these past mornings _was_ odd.

He got up, stretched his joints. Red Alert was no doubt already at his post, and it occurred to him that he could use that to his advantage.

-Inferno to Red Alert.- he sent over a private comm.

-Red Alert here. Go ahead, Sir.-

Inferno walked into the small kitchenette to the side of the main room, where he had several energon rations stored. He said,

-About how many directives would you using the security cameras to locate my Sparmate break?-

There was a pause on his assistant's end, and Inferno could just imagine Red Alert adopting that knowing look he got whenever he caught Sideswipe pulling his usual slag over the camera feeds.

-17, Sir. Give me a nano-click.-

Patiently Inferno strolled back into the main room, subspacing the other half of his cube for later after drinking some. His comm buzzed back to life.

-She's in training room 2A, with Bumblebee and Moonracer.-

-Thank you, Red Alert.-

-No problem.-

Red Alert replied, sounding amused. He chuckled,

-I'll alter Prowl's schedule seeing as you're currently _busy_.-

Inferno grinned to himself as he left, the suite's doors locking behind him. Good old 'Red. Then his smile faded somewhat as he thought about the best route to the training rooms.

It _was_ kind of early for a training session, wasn't it? As far as he knew Firestar's squad wasn't assigned to any upcoming mission; they had just gotten back from one, and were on a well deserved break. Which brought him back to his first thought - why train so early? She had ample time to train if she wanted to _and_ sleep in with him. She wasn't a morning person if she could help it.

When he got to the described room Inferno flared his EM field to announce his presence, while at the same time state his intentions to enter. Moonracer's EM field touched his in response/surprised greeting as he palmed the door open.

The (non alt mode) training rooms were all a standard size. Shooting targets were set up along one wall with drones that could be programmed to move in various ways, and a large mat for combat practice was usually placed against the opposite wall; however, it could be moved (the mats were pretty heavy though).

While Moonracer had Bumblebee pinned down on the mat, Firestar sat on the sidelines with her legs folded in a really weird, almost painful looking position. All three of them froze at his entrance.

"Am I interrupting something?"

His words must have broken whatever glitch had them all frozen, because Moonracer hastily scrambled off of Bumblebee's frame as Firestar shot to her feet.

" _Nope_." Firestar asserted, skipping up to him. She then smiled, motioning to the two 'bots awkwardly leaving room for Jesus on the mat. "Moonracer was just showing us a couple of moves."

"This early in the cycle?" Inferno laughed, unaware of how the unintentional accusation briefly made her energon run cold. "What, couldn't sleep?"

Firestar laughed with him. "Hardly." She seemed to just remember something, because she added, "You _snore_. You sure your alt mode's not a freight train?"

That made Inferno laugh again as Moonracer and Bumblebee approached them. Firestar was always teasing him about that, though it never seemed to bother her before.

"You could have said as much, instead of running off every morning _sweetspark_." The black and red mech purred, rubbing one of her winglets affectionately and clasping his other hand in one of hers. He didn't fail to notice the way she tensed at the light touch before leaning into it.

"Good orn Inferno."

Inferno shifted his attention away from Firestar to look at Moonracer. "Hello Moonracer." He greeted. He turned to Bumblebee. "I didn't have you pegged as a morning mech."

Bumblebee shrugged. "I was already up."

"Well, if you're not too tired," Inferno began, focusing his attention back on Firestar. "I was thinking we could go for a little drive before my shift."

Firestar grinned. "Sounds good to me. We were just finishing up here, _weren't_ we?" She said, pinning Bumblebee with the _look_.

"Oh - yeah, yeah we were, uh have fun." The yellow mech stuttered. Moonracer felt like face palming, except that Inferno would see it. But Inferno dismissed the mech's awkward affirmation, and lead Firestar out of the room hand in hand.

When they were gone Bumblebee turned to Moonracer disbelievingly. " _That's_ Inferno?"

"Yeah?" Moonracer said, cocking her helm at his incredulous tone. "You knew that. What about it?"

Quickly the scout said, "Nothing," and redirected the conversation. "So...want to go another round?"

" _As_ if." Moonracer said, poking his chest with a finger. "I'm doing this for _her_ sake, _not_ yours. Playtime's over."

"But...same time tomorrow then?" Bumblebee called, trailing after her. Moonracer stopped at the door and gave him smirk as she slapped the 'open' button, in complete contradiction to her earlier aggression.

"Maybe. If I get thirsty." She said, referring to the fact that they were making it a habit to get themselves a highgrade breakfast with Bumblebee's credits before hitting the mat.

"You're bleeding me dry, femme."

"Good. You could use a dry spell."

"Not you too." Bumblebee grumbled, now walking beside her. Firestar getting onto him about his "drinking" problem was enough as it was.

He muttered, "Now what…."

"Now I go about my day and you go to the medbay to visit Chromia." Moonracer cheerily informed him, reminding him of plans he'd never made.

Bumblebee got the hint, but had to ask. "What?"

Moonracer _looked_ at him. "You haven't gone to the medbay to see Chromia _once_ since we got back. Don't you even care that she's injured?"

"Um... _no_? Oww!" Bumblebee yelped, rubbing his bad arm where she had punched it. "What was _that_ for? Save it for practice!"

"Then go see her." Moonracer repeated.

"It's not like she's dying; no."

"Yes!"

"No!"

" _Yes_!"

"But Ratchet's in there!"

"So are your _creators_. Who are you afraid of pissing off more?"

"Ratchet."

"Oh come on. Just go in and give her the regular "hi" and "bye", Ratchet doesn't even have to know!"

"Oh, Ratchet will know. Ratchet always knows." Bumblebee joked, though he was semi-serious. He was avoiding the medbay at the moment, just in case that Wheeljack guy had the parts for his arm ready. He didn't want to remind them with his presence.

But Moonracer was not to be easily deflected with humor and growled, "You're a coward."

"No I'm _not_." Bumblebee snarled uncharacteristically, stepping in front of her and stopping, blocking her path. Nobody else was in the hallway with them, but he whisper-shouted all the same, "Don't. Don't call me that. I may be _lier_ , but that's because I have to be. We already told you we don't want to _be_ here!"

"Then. _Leave_." Moonracer hissed.

"We _don't know how_!" Bumblebee snapped, working himself up at being called a coward. "I swear to _God_ these past few deca-cycles have been the bravest of my _life_. I have to wake up every orn surrounded by strangers and pretend to be a **fucking** _alien robot_ because if I don't, my boss, who happens to be the head of special ops in an army _I never signed up for_ will fragment my processor six ways to **Sunday** thinking I'm a Decepticon plant, which by the way _kills_ people. Or I might given to the science department for study, I'm sure Perceptor would just _love_ that! I don't know what will happen to me or the real Bumblebee if I die in this body, but I'm sure as Pit not taking the risk to find out, not when there's a chance I can go home. That's a part of what you Autobots are fighting for, right? You're _home_? I'm fighting every orn to not get caught so I can _just maybe_ get back to mine, so don't you _ever_ call me a fragging coward you hypocrite!"

He realized he was all up in her face and stepped back, muttering, "S-sorry." What was the matter with him? He totally just blew it.

For a few seconds Moonracer didn't say anything, surprised at the outburst. The Bumblebee she knew - even this Bumblebee - never got that angry.

She had to admit it, _if_ what they were saying was true - and it had to be, Firestar had allowed her to sync with her processor that one time and see some of her memories - then this situation was bad for everyone involved, not just for the _real_ Firestar and Bumblebee. Wherever they were. Distantly Moonracer wondered if they had simply swapped bodies with the aliens and were on this "Earth" right now.

" _Fine_." Moonracer heard herself saying in a half-assed apology. Half was all he was getting. "I know you're stressed out right now. I mean, this has got to be the craziest thing anyone's ever heard of. If you don't want to visit Chromia, then don't. Just...be careful not to hurt her feelings too much." She said, crossing her arms.

Her thoughtful expression turned wry.

"'Cause if you do Ironhide will kick your ass when he finds out. Don't think he won't."

"I know. But, hopefully I'll be back in my own body when he does."

Moonracer laughed, the sound easing the tension as they resumed their trek. "You kidding? That's _way_ worse. Aren't your people like super physically weak? You say you're not even made of metal."

"We're not." Bumblebee affirmed. Sort of in line with the topic, he mentioned, "Aren't you people ever distracted when you walk? Having metal peds makes you footsteps _super_ loud." To prove his point he marched like a moron the next few steps, making the gears in his legs and the sound of his metal feet coming in contact with the ground extra pronounced.

Moonracer looked confused. "What are talking about? That's how people always sound when they walk. It's normal."

"It's not normal to hear the inner workings of your legs as you move. It's distracting. On **Earth** we move silently."

Moonracer opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak a pink arm wrapped around her neck in forced hug.

"There you _are_!" It's owner exclaimed. "We've been looking all over for you. Where do you run off to in the mornings?" Lanerunner jabbed a thumb in the rec room's direction (only another hallway away). "Greenlight found her _roklu_. We're setting up a game in there. You want to play?"

"Sure." Moonracer said, liking the sound of that. Then she got an idea, and motioned to Bumblebee. "That is, if Bumblebee can join us?"

It was rude to just ditch someone; plus Moonracer felt like the yellow idiot needed something to do with himself besides drinking and hiding in his room. He needed to get out more.

Lanerunner smiled shyly at Bumblebee, suddenly recognizing him from before. "Sure. You know how to play, right?"

"Not really…". Bumblebee began, trying to get out if it. But Moonracer was quick to catch on latched onto his good arm. "Don't worry. We can show you."

"Yeah, it's easy once you get the hang of it." Lanerunner beamed, turning towards the rec room and expecting them to follow. Moonracer all but dragged Bumblebee behind her.

-What are you _doing_?-

Bumblebee privately messaged her.

Without looking at him Moonracer commed back,

-Having fun. What, don't tell me you already have plans, because I know you don't.-

- _Yes_ I do. They're called 'not blowing my cover'.-

- _Please_.-

Moonracer marched him into the rec room. Once they were inside (and Moonracer was sure he wouldn't run off) she released her friendly looking hold on his arm and grabbed his hand, leading him to the table Lanerunner was obviously heading to.

A blindingly bright green and yellow femme, a femme with a well coordinated purple paint job, a blue and orange mech with a face mask, and a grey Praxian were already seated and watching the three of them approach. Bumblebee thought the Praxian looked familiar. Maybe because he looked like Prowl?

"Hey, it's _Bumblebee_!" The grey mech greeted right off the bat. Yep, very familiar. _What was his name…._

"Scoot over Smokescreen," Lanerunner said, dropping onto the round booth's plastic cushion beside him. The awkward shuffle ensured as everybody scooted to the right, to the right.

Moonracer had already sat down on the opposite side next to Greenlight, and at Bumblebee's minute hesitance on where to sit (that nobody else noticed) Moonracer flicked her optics downward, like ' _sit down you idiot_ '. He took a seat beside Lanerunner.

"How's it going 'Bee? Have seen _you_ in a while." Smokescreen said easily as he fiddled with a device that covered most of the table.

Bumblebee answered, "Good. It's, uh, going good. Can't wait to get back in the field." And he raised his damaged arm in its sling to show what he meant.

The yet to be named purple femme said, " _nice_. What happened?"

"Ravage," Bumblebee sighed, rolling his optics for effect. "If I had a credit for everytime that guy sneaks into base-"

"We could afford a security system that would actually catch him in the act." Smokescreen finished, grinning. He quickly changed moods though, following up with, "But seriously, that looks painful. I bet your superiors weren't too happy about it."

"Nope." Bumblebee supplied. The way Smokescreen had said that...did the mech know he was part of Special Ops? That Jazz had been about to send him on a mission before he got injured?

The purple femme beside Greenlight elbowed her face-masked friend. "Dibs on level five."

Bumblebee had no idea what she was talking about, but then the cylindrical machine on the table whirred to life under Smokscreen's hands, and a blue, multi-level hologram popped up.

 _Okay, that's just cool,_ the human marveled as everyone else quickly chimed in what level they wanted. There were eight square grids at varying heights that must have been the different "levels", and only six of them. Bumblebee was broken out if his thoughts to realize everyone was watching him when Moonracer kicked him under the table.

The _hell_ were they looking at him for?

"Err, I don't really know how to play." He reminded them. Lanerunner took on a 'oh yeah' expression while Greenlight said,

" _Ohhhh_. Why didn't you say so? Give him level two, Smokescreen."

"You don't know how to play?" Smokescreen repeated, incredulous, even as he moved to input something into the device's controls. Everyone knew how to play _roklu_. Did Bumblebee grow up under a rock?

"I mean, I haven't played in a while - I've forgotten most of the rules." Bumblebee corrected, saving face. He subtly glanced at Moonracer across the table, who nodded in approval.

It turned out to be a lot like chess; a strategy game but with more (holographic) pieces and seemingly random rules. Scott found he actually enjoyed the game, beginning to get the hang of it as mostly Moonracer and Lanerunner explained it to him and helped him take down the others' pieces in the first few rounds. This was pretty fun. Of course, no one could even come close to beating Smokescreen, who was apparently (according to Bumblebee's memories) a budding tactician.

Totally not fair.

Fun as this was, Bumblebee failed to notice he was being watched by more than one set of hostile optics as the game progressed.

Leaning on the wall beside the energon dispensers, Cliffjumper gripped his cube tighter as he watched Bumblebee interact with the green and white femme through narrowed his optics.

On his part, a fresh-from-the-washracks Mirage took a more subtle approach, passing Bumblebee's table several times on his way to refill his cube. He was so parched you see, just back from a mission. It was good to be back among friends after seeing nothing but enemies' faces for so long. One face in particular had stood out. Mirage knew Bumblebee was hiding something.

Because on his first orn down there, he saw Ravage.

* * *

 **I got some funny stuff imagined for this. How to write it though...**

 **Anyway, enjoy! And as always, I love getting reviews.**


	10. Chapter 10

"Commander. Did you notice anything strange about him before he went on the fritz?" Air Raid asked. They were on the move, flying defensively in a tight formation among a city's ruins and purposely keeping low to the ground to avoid being spotted. Slingshot flew with Fireflight's inert frame magnetized to his own.

"No - not really." Silverbolt said. "He did say he felt kind of _odd_ when we first got to that building."

"Interesting. Did he say _when_ that started?" Skydive added, thinking: _Probably a virus._

Silverbolt was in the lead as they passed under an abandoned bridge, the noise of their engines echoing off its pockmarked surface.

"No."

They flew in silence for a few minutes.

"The rendezvous point is just past the next ridge." Skydive called to his teammates at length. Silverbolt pinged their information ahead of them so that they wouldn't get shot down by mistake. Soon they were close enough to make out the small med-evac shuttle.

Silverbolt felt a prick of disappointment. Oh well. It would be a little cramped with five flyers and the pilot, but Command needed the bigger shuttles to ferry mechs to and from the Fronts.

It was a long journey back to base. As if getting to the extraction point the long way wasn't fun enough, the first sedatant wore off on the shuttle ride up. Fireflight had of course freaked out _again_ and if not for Slingshot's quick reflexes, would have jumped _out of the moving shuttle._

Granted, Cybertronians were perfectly fine in the vacuum of space. But nobody wanted to retrieve his crazy ass.

Silverbolt was the first to jump down on the lunar dirt once the shuttle landed. He took hold of Fireflight, the others likewise stepping onto the moon's surface.

"Skydive, Slingshot, come with me." He directed. "Air Raid - give our mission report to Prowl."

"Yes, Sir." Air Raid said, pivoting right to find the Praxian's office. 99.9 % of the time that's where he could be found. Air Raid wouldn't be surprised if the stoic mech recharged in there so he could get back to work the moment he woke up.

The others headed left, towards the medbay, Silverbolt leading the way with the unconscious Fireflight in his arms.

"Silverbolt. Good to see you again in one piece." A red and white medic greeted as the entered.

Silverbolt tipped his helm at First Aid in acknowledgement as he and Skydive arranged his subordinate on the indicated berth. A few berths down the row Ratchet was working on a brightly colored femme - Greenlight, if Silverbolt remembered correctly - and he glanced up briefly to note their entrance.

"What happened?" First Aid asked.

The grey commander's wings dipped. "We were hoping you could tell us. Fireflight powered down briefly, then woke up and attacked us. It was like he lost his damn mind - he freaked out and started talking gibberish."

"Yeah," Slingshot interrupted, looping a finger by his audio. "He just went _crazy_."

First Aid was hooking up various monitors and wires to the young flyer's frame. "Did anything happen before that?" He asked. "A blow to the helm? An electric shock? Was he alone with an enemy long enough to get hacked?"

"No, none of those things. He just said he had a helmache or something before powering down." Silverbolt answered, pinching the bridge of his olfactory sensor. At least, he was pretty sure. If that little glitch had gotten injured and not reported it….

"I need to get a scan of his processor activity while he's awake." First Aid admitted after about two breems of looking at the charts his equipment was creating. He indicated one of the monitors, though Silverbolt had no idea what those lines were supposed to mean - he wasn't a medic.

"Physically he appears fine - no dented in sections or crossed wires according to the surface scans. If it's a virus, it may only be active when he's awake. Does he need to be restrained?"

Silverbolt frowned, considering if the action would only serve to scare their confused teammate more, but nodded. "...Probably."

"Definitely." Corrected Skydive while beside him Slingshot pulled a _duh_ face. "Don't want him transforming in here and breaking stuff. This is the same guy who tried to jump out of a moving shuttle less than a joor ago."

"That's...not a good sign." First Aid mumbled disconcertedly as he reached under the berth to turn on the magnetic restraints. They turned on with a faint _hummmmm_.

"Fireflight?" First Aid said softly after administering the stasis inhibitor.

Groggily, the red and grey flyer tried to sit up, and became much more alert when he found that he couldn't.

He immediately started to panic.

"Calm down kid." Silverbolt demanded, stepping closer as First Aid scanned the straining mech's helm. Fireflight flinched and yelped at the beam of light as if afraid of it. His optics were huge as he looked first at Silverbolt, then to his other teammates, startled recognition in their blue glow.

" **Where am I?"**

First Aid would have frowned had he a mouth. As it was, the face-masked medic gently replied, "Fireflight, we can't understand you."

"See? _Crazy_." Slingshot muttered in the background, earning an elbow from Skydive.

" **C-can't under-but I know what you're saying! What's going on? Who are you guys-I'm a robot-why-where're my parents-I want to go ho-"**

"Fireflight, settle down." First Aid said sternly, putting a hand on the mech's arm for comfort while making sure he had another sedatant on hand.

Fireflight was mumbling faster and faster, and from what Silverbolt had told him First Aid figured another panic attack was coming on. "Just vent with me. In and out. In and out."

Fireflight must have been able to understand _them_ even if it wasn't the other way around, because he made a visible effort to cool his jets (literally).

"That's it, you're doing good. Keep going - slowly. That's very good." First Aid encouraged.

Silverbolt shifted his weight. Neither he nor his teammates said anything as First Aid demagnetized the berth and had Fireflight open and close his servos, touch his pointer finger to his nose, do arm circles, and perform the other general diagnostics used to assess motor function.

For one thing they didn't want to interrupt the medic's examinations. For another, they were using the distraction to calm Fireflight down.

First Aid was doing a good job of that himself, but soft tones and stupid tasks could lighten the fear Fireflight was sending through their bond only so much.

Silverbolt focused inward, projecting feelings of _acceptance_ and _calm_. He felt Skydive and Slingshot's pleasant feelings in the bond as they likewise took the moment to manipulate their wingmate, who's fear against the combined fronts was steadily diminishing. The aerial commander couldn't feel Air Raid's presence as brightly as the others' right now. But it was likely that the bomber was ignoring their mental shenanigans in order to effectively debrief with Prowl.

"You're movements are looking good." First Aid praised. "But I still can't understand what you're saying. Do you remember damaging your vocalizer?"

Fireflight shook his head quickly and uttered a few more of the staticky sounds. With nervous permission, First Aid felt along and scanned his neck cables, but detected no damage.

"Okay, so just... _oh_ , here. You can write on this until we get your vocalizer sorted out." First Aid said, a light bulb practically glowing over his head as he handed his patient a datapad.

Fireflight just looked at him with a dumbfounded expression and said,

" **Write** _ **what**_ **? You still haven't told me what's going on! Is this an iPad? Umm...where's the** _ **on**_ **button?"**

Fireflight fumbled with the pad for a good minute after the string of gibberish, and eventually First Aid (politely) took it from him to boot it up before giving it back. Slingshot face palmed, already sensing where this was going.

"Fireflight, can you right down your name for me?" First Aid asked seriously.

Fireflight hastily scribbled something on it and turned it around for them to see.

"The frag is _that_?" Slingshot growled, referring to the squiggles the younger mech had drawn on the datapad. His worried frustration along with Silverbolt's disappointment briefly entered their gestalt bond, and fleeting as the emotions were Fireflight recoiled like he'd been slapped - what did he do wrong?

"It's okay, you did your best." First Aid reassured, snatching one of Fireflight's wrists to keep him from bolting. Some of the tenseness left Fireflight's frame as that same overpowering calm enveloped him again, like it was coming from someone else.

-Ratchet, we have a class 3 psych patient on our hands. Is there an isolation room open?-

First Aid commed his mentor as he lead Fireflight to sit back down. The flyer kept switching from nervously compliment to full out panicked, and First Aid was tempted to hit the easy button and simply restrain him again.

-They all are except room 4 - don't ask. Do you want me to check him out?-

Ratchet commed back from where he was now sorting tools, having completed what First said assumed was a general check up with Greenlight. First Aid handed Fireflight a cube of medgrade energon.

-If you want to. I'm sure you will at some point -based on the behavior I've observed I have a feeling he won't be fit for duty for some time.-

Meanwhile, Fireflight was frowning into his energon cube and swirling the contents around with a finger. Oh for the love of-

"Please drink that." First Aid said flatly. Fireflight snapped his face up to gape at him and babbled,

" **I'm supposed to** _ **drink**_ **this? This is so not Gatorade. It looks poisonous."**

Like Ratchet, First Aid could sense the rejection of sound medical advice a mile away and repeated firmly, "You need to drink that. All of it. You're systems are already low." And he pantomimed drinking just in case Fireflight didn't get it.

Oh, he got it. There was just no way he was doing it. Silverbolt, Slingshot, and Skydive were treated to some entertainment as First Aid tried to get the unrepentant aerialbot to drink it.

Silverbolt finally had enough, because he said, "Fireflight, I order you to drink that. Stop acting like a child."

Fireflight looked between him and First Aid before doing the only appropriate thing that came to mind - dumping the distasteful liquid on the floor in a final, petulant 'no'.

* * *

Prowl checked the time. Frowned.

This was unlike Bumblebee.

While the meeting hadn't yet started, normally the little 'bot was the one of the first to arrive discounting himself.

Currently fit for duty work or not, even the least of their Officers was expected to attend the regular Officer meetings with Prime if able. Such assemblies were scheduled on a monthly basis, though of course more could be arranged per diem. Bumblebee had been recovering in the medbay from a Ravage-induced injury during the last one, so he had some leeway there, but it had been a month since then - surely knew he was expected to attend?

Prime wasn't there yet either, but he was always busy and last to arrive. Nothing new there.

Even before the door behind Prowl opened his sensitive doorwings detected the objects of his thoughts, and he didn't bother looking up as Bumblebee entered. Just on time. So the glitch _could_ count. Bumblebee took his seat between Ratchet and Ironhide (a strategically placed buffer to keep the two from strangling each other) as Optimus walked around to his place at the head of the table.

Prime settled and called the meeting to order, and Prowl's gaze flickered past Jazz. So the head of Special Ops had noticed too. Figures.

It wasn't a long meeting. Most everyone at the table had other things and departments to oversee, so Prime kept its time to a minimum.

As peds scrambled to move their owners to freedom once the meeting drew to a close, Prowl and Ratchet remained seated.

"Ratchet. Prowl. Something you would like to add?" Optimus ventured, sitting back down expectantly.

Ratchet slid a datapad to Optimus before beginning, "The reason for this order doesn't have to leave the three of us. I'm decommissioning Commander Silverbolt's entire squad for medical leave until further notice."

Prime's optics reflected the harsh overhead lighting as he pondered, "They have all been injured at once? Is this a supply issue?"

"No." Ratchet sighed. "One of them - Fireflight - has become mentally unstable for reasons unknown. The squadron shares a Gestalt bond, and when one part become psychologically ill there is a precedent of the instability affecting the whole."

"They are our best aerial fighters." Prime had to point out, not liking this one bit. Prowl, finally joining the conversation, replied,

"We are aware - which is why we can't risk our strongest flyers fritzing on the battlefield and getting taken out permanently when they could get treatment now. Rung and First Aid are doing everything in their power to find the malfunction. But until then, temporary replacements for that sector are in order."

The tactician nodded to the datapad Ratchet had forked over. "I already compiled a list of flight capable candidates. That also contains a report on Fireflight's current status."

Optimus fidgeted with the datapad for a few astroseconds, considering. Technically, the decision was already made since his CMO could deign even himself unfit for duty. What they really needed was for him to help pick and sign off on dispatching the replacements.

Behind his battle mask, Optimus frowned. Well this sucked. He asked, "Has Silverbolt been informed of this?" while booting up the datapad.

He didn't like ordering things behind someone's back.

Ratchet nodded. "He will be, just as soon as we decide who will cover for them."

"Then let's begin."

* * *

 **I'm back! Sorry for the delay, but real life got in the way for a while there. Let me know what you guys think of my chapters! I love getting feedback!**


	11. Chapter 11

Bumblebee groaned quietly, thankful to be *home* again. A.k.a. in his and Ironhide's suite. Despite his bond being closed he could sense the mech recharging in the next room; but Moonracer felt less people would walk in on their training or be looking for either of them so early, so, here he was.

He was exhausted. The morning's (night's?) round with Moonracer had left his paint really chipped up; she hadn't held back this time, and Bumblebee was improving enough to warrant more than a swift sweep of the legs in a fight. She still won every time. Just not as easily.

Bumblebee grinned into the mirror of the unit's private washwrack, the expression in stark contrast to the pitiful state of his paint job. He was getting better, and it was _something_ about this stupid situation he could be proud of. Soon, he wouldn't be (as) defenseless, especially if - no, _when_ \- Jazz sent him on his first mission. It was bound to happen sooner or later, if that Wheeljack guy ever got around to making the parts for his arm. Hopefully later.

Still looking at his reflection in the mirror, Bumblebee turned around. Spun back around. He tilted his horned head and made a funny face (Scott didn't think he could ever get tired of that, it was just too weird having someone else's face). Unfortunately, no amount of positioning made him look better.

Bumblebee's reflection nodded in sync with him - he was definitely going to have to fix this. Sunstreaker would glitch if he saw him, and Ratchet would too before strangling him for not taking it easy like he'd been told. Ironhide and Chromia (who was now out of the medbay on light duty, like him) would want to know what he was getting up to that scratched his paint so much at the alien equivalent of 3 a.m. That would be an awkward conversation.

 _Does Bumblebee even have any paint in his subspace_? Scott wondered. _Surely he does. Let's see, right arm subspace pocket? Empty. Left arm...uh, no. Damn, who else has yellow paint?_

Sunstreaker was the wrong shade of yellow, not that he'd ever let anyone else use it. Huffer had some yellow on him. Or was that orange? Either way Bumblebee didn't think Bumblebee knew him well enough to ask.

Sheeeeit, who else could he ask before Ironhide woke up, saw him, learned he spent his mornings with a femme, and went parental defcon three? Scott wondered what his own parents would think if they caught him sneaking out to be with a girl.

Then the teenager remembered that _Bumblebee_ was technically an adult. What was he worrying for? He was an Officer for crying out loud!

Still, better safe than sorry, especially when it came to keeping up the ruse.

-You awake? _-_ -

- _Shut up! You'll wake Inferno!_ \- Firestar commed back immediately, using her internal comm.

Internal comms didn't require you to press any

external button (hence the name), but as a drawback they could only be used for short range transmissions, and were easily hackable to boot. Luckily they were in range of each other, only a few walls separating the Security Director's suite from Ironhide's.

Bumblebee switched to his own internal comm.

- _How? We're talking over the comm,_ _ **dumbass**_ _.-_ -

- _I meant I can't move to answer you on my external comm right now, and he's close enough that he might hear your voice buzzing through it. I'm a little busy_.-

Firestar sounded exasperated. Scott stopped flexing nonexistent muscles in the wash rack's mirror with his good arm to ask seriously,

- _What's_ that _supposed to mean? Do you need help? I can come over and distract him if-_ -

- _No no don't, I'm fine; he's asleep. It's just, he insisted on cuddling when we went to recharge and Firestar wouldn't say 'no' to that so he's like really close to my audio right now. Hence why I'M awake._ -

Bumblebee smothered a laugh at the mental image of Firestar just lying there awake and annoyed in her oblivious Sparkmate's arms, remembering that his creators were also asleep.

- _Ha! You're trapped! What did you do in your other life to deserve this?_ -

- _There is nothing anyone could ever do to deserve this._ \- Firestar grumbled.

- _What do you want, anyway?_ -

- _Oh, yeah. Do you have any yellow paint?_ -Bumblebee questioned. As an afterthought he added, - _Specifically my shade of yellow, if it's not too much to ask._ -

- _What? You woke me up for paint? What could you possibly need paint for at two in the morning?_ \- Firestar snapped.

- _You just said you were already awake. And to paint stuff with,_ _ **duh**_ _. Moonracer was rough and left a lot of suspicious scratches that I need to touch up._ -

-... _ **Dude**_ _. Phrasing._ -

- _Do you have yellow paint or not?_ _ **S.O.S**_ _._

 _Please don't make me have to explain myself to Ironhide and Chromia_.-

- _Hmm considering the fact that I'm currently as orange as the orn is long, no, I don't have yellow paint._ -

Bumblebee inspected a scratched up arm as he begged, - _Well do you know anyone who does?_ -

- _Not anyone that's awake_.- Firestar said, and Scott could practically hear the eye roll in her tone.

Clearly this was a dead end as far as paint was concerned. Not good.

- _Well then where can I fragging get some!_ -

- _I don't know, try the store rooms?_ -

Firestar suggested.

- _Those are always guarded or staffed, showing up at one so early_ _isn't exactly low-key. Plus I'm pretty sure everyone but me keeps their own paint supply. It would look...I don't know. Weird_.-

- _So sneak in there. Aren't you a spy? Just kidding please don't do that, you suck_.-

Firestar reneged, electronic laughter briefly flitting over the line.

- _Hey, I'm getting better. Well, thanks for nothing.._ \- Bumblebee said, ending the useless conversation and shutting off his internal comm.

Honestly storage wasn't that bad an idea, it more than likely did have his color paint. He just had to somehow convince the on duty quartermaster to give him some, or let him buy some - he wasn't quite sure how that worked.

 _Well, I'll just have to find out,_ Scott thought. He checked his credit account and winced. While it was still a lot compared to most people's accounts (seeing as the real Bumblebee apparently never spent them on anything), it was close to two-thirds of what it had been.

Bumblebee pink-panthered his way past Ironhide and Chromia's private room to slip out of the suite for the second time that night. Okay, storerooms it was.

Uh, where were they again?

* * *

 _Later that morning…._

The winglets on Moonracer's back twitched as she stepped off the lift. Being on leave for so long was starting to take its toll on her - she was used to catching a few minutes of recharge here and there on the battlefield. Not that she didn't enjoy being able to relax while off duty.

Her lithe gait eventually carried her to the rec room, where she could already detect the tempting scent of high grade in the air. Man, she was turning into a...what did those two idiots call it? **Alcoholic**? Her mind stumbled over the foreign word.

The green femme padded over to the bar anyway.

Let's see, what to start her day with? It was a tougher choice when she wasn't using someone else's credits. In her indecision, a red digit tapped her shoulder.

"Good orn Moonracer."

"Oh," Moonracer said, turning around. "Good orn Cliffjumper."

Cliffjumper tilted his horned head towards where presumably his friends sat. "Care to join us over breakfast? My treat."

"Sure." Moonracer said, not because she particularly liked Cliffjumper but because she didn't really have anything better to do and yay, free stuff. Cliffjumper lead her back to a round table where Brawn and one of her squadmates, Greenlight, were seated.

"Hey Moonracer!" Greenlight greeted. She took another sip of her energon and giggled, "I haven't been off the duty roster for this long in megacycles! Isn't this great?"

"Yeah," Moonracer said, "it _has_ been a while. Prowl must be really busy if he hasn't scheduled us for another mission. What about you guys? Heading out soon?"

Brawn shrugged with a, "I just got back," while Cliffjumper said "Not to my knowledge."

The table fell silent for a breem. Of course, Greenlight, ever the gossip, wasn't about to stand for that, and piped up, "So where's Bumblebee? Usually you're in here with him or Firestar - are you two, like, a thing?"

Cliffjumper wanted to face palm at the neon green femme's tactlessness, but was selfishly relieved when Moonracer blurted, " _What_? _No way_! No - he just lost a bet, with the stipulation being the loser has to buy highgrade for the megacycle."

Moonracer mentally gave herself a high five. Damn she was smooth.

Brawn snickered as Greenlight gasped, "A whole _megacycle?_ What on Cybertron did you bet?!"

 _More like blackmailed_ , Moonracer thought with a dark pleasantness, but what she cryptically said was, "I can't really say. Speaking of Bumblebee, have you seen him?"

Brawn kinda half smiled knowingly, while Cliffjumper allowed himself a full on smirk. "I think he was doing something with the Twins last I heard."

 _That can't be good,_ Moonracer thought at their conniving expressions. But she let it drop, deciding to change the subject - people really _would_ think they were an item if all she did was talk about Bumblebee. The imposter could take care of himself for one orn.

"How's Chromia?" She asked Greenlight. "I haven't been by the medbay in a while - Ironhide finally annoy Ratchet enough to make him fix her strut?"

Greenlight put her energon down. "Oh, I think she's fine. I didn't actually see her while I was in there the other day, so he must have. But you'll never guess what I _did_ see!"

Brawn's engine rumbled interestedly, and Moonracer felt her own curiosity pike.

"What?" Cliffjumper asked.

"You know those fancy flyboys that lead the aerial division? Silverbolt's squad?"

Brawn rolled his optics, well acquainted with the tall bots. They didn't get along. "Yeah? And?"

"My friend Tune-up says the whole squad's been temporarily decommissioned, though no one knows why 'cause Ratchet won't say. But I was there when they brought their teammate in - and he. Was. Crazy." She laughed. "Like out of his mind, this guy's babbling like he's lost half his processor. Not a word of Cyber-standard. Crazier than a neon green Ratchet."

Cliffjumper snorted at the reference - Sideswipe had paid dearly for that prank - and Greenlight continued. "I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, and I'm probably a terrible person for thinking this, but it was totally hilarious! They even asked the guy to write something and he drew these weird lines like he was writing in an alien language! Can you imagine, if the whole gestalt goes insane like that? We'd have a _big_ problem on our hands."

"Wow." Brawn said, having the audacity to chuckle. "I always knew those guys were nuts."

Cliffjumper elbowed Moonracer. "You okay?" He asked at her expression.

The question took Moonracer out of the horrified trance Greenlight's story had induced, and she quickly nodded, "Yeah. I was just thinking about...something else." She smiled, forcing a dry chuckle past her lips. "Sounds like Ratchet has his servos full, Greenlight."

"I know, right?" The femme pruned, pleased to be the center of attention.

Brawn changed the subject at that point, informing the group about how Windcharger was in the brig yet _again_ for fighting with Sunstreaker yesterday _,_ but Moonracer wasn't paying attention.

She couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. How many people were 'infected' now? Three that she _knew_ of, if Greenlight's story was what she thought it was. And so what? Who could she tell? She suddenly didn't know who to trust. For all she knew, anyone could be one of _them_ , her subconscious whispered.

At that she excused herself, making sure to thank Cliffjumper for the energon.

"No problem," the warrior said amiably. His optics traced her *path* as she exited the rec room before he turned back to the conversation at hand, oblivious.

* * *

Sideswipe liked Bumblebee. He really did. He considered them buddies, though to be honest he considered almost everyone he and Sunstreaker didn't actively hate at the moment to be his "buddy". As such he was sure his yellow buddy would understand when he materialized out of nowhere to body check him into the narrow supply closet he'd been about to walk past with a loud "WOOP!"

"Hey, what are you-", The scout began, but he didn't get to finish as the door closed in front of his surprised faceplates.

"Pathetic, I give that a 3, maybe a 3 ½." Sunstreaker tisked.

"Give me a break, I get more momentum when they're closer to my height. Not my fault he's a mini." The red Twin grumbled, falling into step beside tall, gold, and broody. They continued their way to the rec room like nothing had happened. Bumblebee? What Bumblebee? They didn't know where Bumblebee was.

Sideswipe poked his head in the door to scope it out. Mirage and Hound sat at a table talking. There was Cliffjumper's table of minis and femmes. He briefly made optic contact with Jazz by the dispensers in his search. The head of Spec Ops shook his helm, a silent acknowledgement that he knew Sideswipe was up to no good; Sideswipe ignored him. Aha - bingo. Ironhide had his arm wrapped around Chromia, busy enjoying a late breakfast with Inferno and Firestar (who Sideswipe thought looked less thrilled with the arm draped over her shoulders than Chromia did).

He ducked back out.

"Coast is clear." He cheered at his Sunny, who just scowled back. "Let's make this quick."

The two discreetly (for a pair of big frontliners) made their way up to the Officer's level. Sideswipe estimated they had maybe twenty breems tops before Bumblebee picked the sub-lock Sideswipe had placed on the closet door and made a Bumble-beeline for them.

Sunstreaker had the lock hacked on his second try. "Useless", he muttered. A coder Ironhide was not.

Sideswipe grinned with manic glee as they entered 'forbidden' territory. Messing with people was just too easy. Now that they had confirmed the quarters' occupants currently busy, they could get to work.

* * *

A grey fist slammed into the wall. " _What's the meaning of this!_ " Slingshot snarled, dorsal plating feathered out in anger.

Ratchet just glared back, completely unimpressed. "With a part of your gestalt mentally unstable, there is a threat to you all."

"You calling me mentally unstable?!"

"Mute it, Slingshot." Silverbolt said, finally catching up to put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Orders are orders."

As soon as he had broken the news Slingshot had rushed out of their team's shared quarters to argue it. Honestly, Silverbolt wasn't surprised, and half wanted to join in. Slingshot had always been a hothead.

Ratchet eyed the pair with his signature scowl. "I understand you are upset. And _no_ , I don't think the rest of you are an issue. But you must understand the risk, should Fireflight's... _instability_ suddenly affect you on the battlefield."

Slingshot made himself nod, though the audible grinding of his denta told a different story. "How's he doing?" Silverbolt asked, moving the subject away from their orders before Slingshot said something _really_ stupid.

Ratchet again scowled, but this time it wasn't directed at them. "Not much different. His moods are still random."

"But has he said anything yet?"

A sigh. "Nothing _coherent_."

Slingshot muttered something under his vent, and Silverbolt wanted to demand Ratchet fix Fireflight right now, but his more mature side recognized the medbay staff were doing everything they could.

"We're gonna go see him, then." Silverbolt said instead. "I mean, unless it's your opinion we shouldn't."

Slingshot snorted, already heading for the office's door. "Speak for yourself."

"That's fine. At this point, I'm not sure _what_ sets him off." Ratchet admitted to the aerial leader when it was just the two of them. Silverbolt opened his mouth to say something, but thought better if it.

"What?" Ratchet encouraged.

"I just...I feel like there's something _off_ about this whole thing. And Fireflight, he feels so.. _alone_ ," Silverbolt said, lightly bumping his chest plates over where his spark was. "He's actively trying to block us out. If we're going to be on medical leave until he gets better - and don't give me any of that "temporarily off duty" slag Prowl gave us - then he should be in our quarters, rooming with _us_ , not sitting in a quarantine room to rust."

Ratchet shook his head. "I understand. And perhaps within a few decacycles he _can_ be; but he's not even voluntarily taking his energon right now. He needs medical supervision until we know he's not a danger to himself or others. And unless his behavior starts improving dramatically, that might take a while."

Silverbolt narrowed his optics. The thought of Fireflight ever being a danger to himself or his brothers left a bad taste on his glossa; surely he'd never do something to intentionally hurt them. He was just...confused right now. Yeah, confused. And apparently lonely, if the faint emotions seeping through his side of the five-way bond was anything to go by. But that was his own fault, the fragger. He was blocking _them_ out. They just wanted to help.

Speaking of Fireflight's side of the bond, Silverbolt was starting to detect a growing nervousness that wasn't there before. Damnit, what was Slingshot doing? He'd best find out before Fireflight panicked again. They had all been in their quarters the first time it happened since bringing him to the medbay; upon arriving en mass, it turned out First Aid and Ratchet had merely needed to magnetize him to the room's berth in order to get an energon IV under his plating. Fireflight certainly hadn't liked that. But at least now he was keeping it in, though he still refused to actively _drink_ his rations. Silverbolt excused himself.

Ratchet watched the aerial leader leave. Primus deemed to grant CMO a minute of blessed silence before someone else pinged him to let him know he was entering.

"Oh for the love of-what do _you_ want?" Ratchet snapped when a certain engineer poked his head in.

"Oh, well if you _don't_ want these parts…", and dramatically he turned as if to leave, swinging the box he held.

"I didn't say _that_ you glitch." Ratchet said, grabbing Wheeljack to pull him inside, thoughts of troubled aerialbots vanishing. "What is this?"

Wheeljack set the crate down on the sole berth/table in the disorganized room (though it might as well have been the Sistine Chapel compared to his lab). "I think you mean _who_ is this. I got some knee-components for Blaze, the back-strut cover armor Eject needed, some half-sawn-off-"

"Yes yes, I get it." Ratchet interrupted, coming closer to go through the parts himself. The two shuffled through the various items for a breem in companionable silence, before Ratchet pulled out something with a victorious, "Aha!"

"What?"

"I didn't think you would get to this so early, seeing as Bumblebee's pretty low on the priority list."

Wheeljack eyed the arm and shoulder components Ratchet held. "Me neither, but Prowl said he needed him soon."

Ratchet tilted his head, thoughtful. "Really? What for?"

"That's classified."

"...I'm the _CMO_."

"Yeah, but _I'm_ not. I mean, I seriously don't know, Prowl just came out of nowhere - like he does - and told me to get to Bumblebee's parts." Wheeljack defended, recognizing that calculating 'where would a wrench hurt most' look on Ratchet's face usually reserved for when he did something spectacularly stupid.

"Whatever." Ratchet grumbled, subspacing them (he could ring it out if the SIC later if he felt like it). He was already thinking of ways to lure the yellow glitch to the medbay, since he had apparently taken to the habit of not answering his comms.

In fact, Ratchet was of half a mind to give his peds some exercise and hunt Bumblebee down himself.

* * *

Let me know what you think! I love the reviews I've gotten so far. This is sort of an in between chapter for other stuff to come.


	12. Chapter 12

Fireflight hugged his knees where he sat huddled in the corner. He had been led (more like dragged) to the empty room what felt like days ago after getting yelled at for pouring out that blue stuff.

Wasn't his fault they couldn't understand him when he said no. Was he in time out?

Often one of the winged mechs that had first brought him here would visit and again offer the liquid, or chatter to him about various things. Fireflight listened, and tried to answer their stupid questions Iike "what feels wrong?" (Uh, _everything?_ ), but it was obvious that they couldn't understand him back. He wanted nothing to do with the completely silver one though, the one who had yelled at him earlier. That one was scary. Fireflight ignored him everytime he came to visit.

An orange robot with a face design that made him appear to wear glasses had come by as well and introduced himself as Rung. Fireflight thought he'd looked funny and had smiled at him, but the expression had been quickly wiped away with the mech's first question: Do you know where you are?

Of course not. Why did these robots want _him_ to explain everything, when it should've been the other way around? What was going on, anyway? Why was he even a robot in the first place? Did his parents know where he was?

Something hissed, and Fireflight's attention was instantly focused on the door. That sound meant it was unlocking. Not that it mattered. Fireflight would much rather stay in his safe little corner than explore the strange place with all the mean robots. Honestly, he _should_ be more afraid than he was. But he only felt like cringing slightly as one of his winged visitors - Slingshot? - entered, cube in hand.

"Hey 'Fire, how're you doing? Rung wanted me to give you this," he held up one of those weird iPads, "and I got you some zinc laced energon."

Fireflight had always liked zinc laced, even though personally Slingshot and every other sane person thought it tasted like slag.

" **Okay."**

Slingshot's forced smile faltered a bit, and he knelt down in front of him. "Hey, why are you sitting on the floor bro? That berth looks _way_ more comfortable, don't you think?"

Fireflight shrugged wordlessly. If the mech said so. He accepted the energon handed to him only to place it gently on the floor as was their ritual (like _hell_ he was drinking that poison!) while Slingshot settled on the floor next to him. Fireflight shifted slightly, extremely self conscious of his personal space and that the mech was sitting so close to him, even if he'd always been friendly before.

Fireflight observed the other boot up a different ipad, and his right hand snaked up to rub his forehead while he watched. Ugh. He had such a headache. It was steadily getting worse, too, and absently Fireflight wondered if this was what adults referred to as a migraine. Did 12 year olds even get migraines? Maybe it was the nightmares.

"What do you want to watch? I swiped some of the good history vids from Hound's collection." Slingshot was saying. Cybertronians didn't _do_ movies; their film enterprises before the war consisted mainly of documentaries and biographies, no convoluted make-believe plot or CGI required.

" **A movie? Why are we watching movies? Is this somehow important? You still haven't told me what I'm doing here."** Fireflight whined, no longer afraid as much as he was nervously annoyed. He wanted answers!

"Golden age Iacon it is." Slingshot guessed, pressing the screen with mock fanfare. Ratchet and Rung said simply spending time with Fireflight would be good for him, but that didn't leave a lot to do since he was confined to the room. Skydive spent his visits reteaching him how to play Roklu (a strategy game, since apparently Fireflight forgot how to play), Air Raid just talked with him (more like _at_ him) about his day or whatever inane topic he came up with, and Silverbolt...he didn't really do anything. Couldn't. Fireflight straight up ignored him every time he came to keep him company. Slingshot still wasn't sure what that was about.

As for himself, Slingshot would much rather do something mindlessly fun like race his confused brother on the lunar base's practice range. That was sure to cheer him up. Flying always cheered any of them up. But he couldn't right now (though he was tempted to simply sneak him out next time it was his turn to visit, Fireflight certainly _looked_ like he could use some fun) so instead they were doing this. While not as much fun, history vids were still mindlessly entertaining. At least to him.

Unfortunately, Slingshot's entertainment to fun ratio couldn't take into account the level of boredom history lessons induced in middle schoolers, because five breems in Fireflight was beginning to shift restlessly.

"What?" Slingshot said, and the 12 year old turned 1200 vorn old glared at him.

" **Did you guys kidnap me to bore me to death?"**

"You know we can't understand you when you talk like that kid."

That only seemed to irritate Fireflight more. He started babbling, " **Are you guys aliens? Are you here to take over the world? And who is Fireflight? Why do you think I'm him? Are we in your spaceship? Why can't you** _ **understand**_ **me?"** Fireflight put emphasis on that last one, wings drooping on his back.

Slingshot just looked at him.

 _Wat._

"Still don't know what you're saying." He admitted.

Fireflight made an irritated " **ughhhh"** sound that didn't need translation.

 _I feel you buddy_ , Slingshot thought, pausing their video. Fireflight seemed just as eager to communicate with them as they were with him, but it was like he just couldn't. Like there was some sort of program scrambling his words. If Slingshot didn't know any better, he'd say Fireflight had one hell of a virus, but Ratchet and staff all insisted there was nothing physically wrong with him.

They stared at each other, each put out for entirely different yet similar reasons. Slingshot suddenly got an idea. One of _those_ ideas. The kind Ratchet and Silverbolt and would disapprove of and probably reformat him for.

But Fireflight looked so damn depressed right now. _He_ knew what would cheer him up.

-First Aid,-

Slingshot ventured.

-is Ratchet busy right now?-

-I haven't seen him since you two stormed his office a few breems ago. Why? Something wrong with Fireflight?-

Silverbolt must still be talking to him, Slingshot figured. Okay, time to call in a few favors.

\- Nah, he's fine. Remember that time I helped sneak you to the washracks after Sideswipe pulled that pink paint prank by distracting everyone?-

-...Yes….-

First Aid said cautiously. He remembered it all right, and that they'd agreed he owed Slingshot one.

-Okay so here's the plan. Silverbolt's still in the office talking with Ratchet. When he comes out you have to distract him. Tell him it's a surprise maintenance inspection or something, just keep him busy.-

-...Slingshot- -

-No no no no, hear me out. See, I need to borrow Fireflight for a little bit for- -

- _Slingshot_ \- -

\- -some "brotherly bonding", you know? He hasn't flown in cycles and- -

-You can't take him out right now, he's a class 3 psych patient.- First Aid said sternly. -It's against regulations; I am _not_ disabling his alt-mode lock. That's asking for him to get hurt.-

-Being cooped up in here _is_ hurting him, First Aid. Forget what Ratchet says, _I_ know a little air time would be good for him. And we don't have to use our alt modes, we've got thrusters. We'd go like, thirty miles per hours, _tops_ , if he even remembers how to use them. He's freaking depressed in here, mech, _depressed_! If this were one of your brothers you guys would be busting him out in no time. Come on, just for the joor? Ratchet and Silverbolt don't even have to know. And besides, you owe me one.-

Slingshot begged, appealing to the fellow gestalt mech's emotion; First Aid was kinda sensitive like that. There was a long moment of silence on the other end, so much so that Slingshot wondered if First Aid was relaying his plea to Ratchet behind his back and laughing at him.

\- 'Aid?-

- _Fine_.-

Came the kurt reply. Followed with a grumbled,

-Streetwise is rubbing off on me too much.-

-Many thanks.-

The aerialbot sent back. He stood up, stretched, and offered his still sitting sibling a servo.

Fireflight just looked at it.

"Come on, you want to go for a flight or what? Can't be more boring than _this_ place."

Fireflight's optics slowly widened in what looked like surprise and growing excitement, and Slingshot took that as yes to hoist him to his peds.

"You have to be _quiet_." Slingshot said, dramatically whispering the _quiet_ while putting a finger in front of his lip-components, which were stretched out in a conniving grin. "If the Wicked Wrench of the West catches us, he'll say no. But I always say it's better to ask forgiveness than permission, yeah?

Fireflight only hesitated briefly before nodding, a small nervous smile playing on his lips. "Slingshot" was going to show him how to fly! That was so cool! And he _was_ kind of bored….

 _That's what I'm talking about_ , Slingshot thought at Fireflight's expression. He lead Fireflight by the hand out of the medbay through one of the less used entrances by the diagnostic rooms. They skirted down the hall, turned a corner, and down another two hallways before Slingshot steered him into a lift. It stopped three floors up.

"Just don't say anything." Slingshot instructed when the doors opened to admit someone else. Mirage gave them an appraising optic before going to stand politely at the back.

Except one of the aerialbots was openly gawking at him.

"Something the matter?" He asked coolly.

" **You look really cool."** Fireflight dared to compliment. Slingshot's grip on his shoulder tightened and he shut up at that and the blue and white robot's dismayed expression. Fireflight felt a brief shot of panic. Had he done something else wrong? He wasn't locked away from all the mean robots anymore. What if-

"Sideswipe, am I right?" Slingshot laughed, lazily putting an arm over Fireflight's shoulder in an excuse to step between them. "I want to know who the Pit thought teaching him to scramble vocalizers was a good idea."

Mirage took on a slightly amused look. Only he and a handful of other Spec Ops mechs had never fallen victim to one of the red Twin's notorious pranks. Generally no one was safe. Even the Prime.

"That is unfortunate, Fireflight." Mirage said. "By the way, would either of you happen to know where Bumblebee is?"

"Sorry, haven't seen him." Slingshot apologized. Mirage looked at Fireflight for a similar confirmation, but the smaller flyer just continued to stare at him.

Once Mirage exited the lift on his floor Slingshot let out a sigh of relief. That had gone a _lot_ better than it could have. Fireflight hadn't been socialized with mechs other than the medics and them since his...accident, and Slingshot had suddenly gotten worried he wouldn't take it so well. But he could sense Fireflight through the bond, still nervous, but now also curious. Skydive and Air Raid poked him through the gestalt bond, wondering what the frag he was up to with the mischievous vibe he couldn't quite smother.

Slingshot ignored them.

They passed a few other mechs in the halls without further incident on the way to the specialized alt-mode training room (or as Streetwise liked to call it, the 'Big-ass Track') that was really a glorified indoor gym. Spanning at least 8 stories, it was a little low roofed for Slingshot's tastes, but even he wasn't stupid enough to let Fireflight fly outside the base in his current state of mind.

He lead Fireflight to the far right corner to distance themselves from the deck's other occupants.

"Okay 'Flight, you remember anything about flying?" Slingshot started. Fireflight shook his head 'no', still stealing amazed glances about the room like it was the Senate Chambers in Iacon.

Slingshot snapped his fingers. "Optics up here. You remember how to hover? No? Okay, so flying 101, there's thrusters in your peds that you can activate via your HUD. Just...it's like thinking about it to activate them, you know what I mean? Just look at your thrusters, and…."

Slingshot demonstrated, slowly igniting his own thrusters to rise a few feet in the air. He hovered in front of Fireflight and held out a hand. "Come on. Easy as oil cake. Just take it- _woah_!"

For someone who had been giving his feet the thousand mile stare an astro-second ago, Fireflight proved adept at shooting upward like a loaded missile the next. He yelped at the sudden momentum, and Slingshot's engine had to work double time to catch up to him. He grabbed his shoulders.

"Less power, you're gonna hit the roof!"

Fireflight's thrusters made a choking sound as they abruptly cut off, and now his weight was pulling them both downward. Slingshot grabbed Fireflight to hold him aloft, and immediately his brother wrapped his arms around him.

"You're fine. Hey, it's _okay_ ," he soothed as Fireflight's hold on him suddenly turned into a bear hug. What was he afraid of? They were two, maybe three stories above the floor. A drop from that height would hardly damage them, yet Fireflight was acting like a youngling who thought the floor was made of lava.

" **Don't drop me!"** Fireflight sobbed in gibberish.

-The slag are you two _doing_ in there?-

Air Raid demanded, annoyed at Fireflight's sudden surge of terror over their bond. Slingshot felt Silverbolt's presence poke him. Hard.

Oww.

"Dude, turn your thrusters back on. Ah ah, _slowly_!"

Slingshot said, holding out a scrambling Fireflight at arms length so as not to get burned. Fireflight did so, and with Slingshot holding him for balance, was able to hover in front of him.

He seemed as momentarily surprised as Slingshot.

"See? Easy. Knew you could do it." Slingshot praised. Fireflight actually grinned at him - _grinned_ at him - before nodding seriously. It was fragging adorable.

The next ten breems were filled with a lot more mistakes, and twice Slingshot just barely saved Fireflight from face planting into the floor. He was pretty sure Fireflight's chaotic emotions from spiraling headfirst towards the floor to triumphantly getting it right were driving his brothers up a wall, but he was too busy keeping Fireflight from slagging himself to give it much thought.

Fireflight was _sort of_ getting the hang of it now, bobbing up and down in the air like Slingshot taught him and spinning around like he was a screensaver trying to load.

He...looked like a lunatic.

 _But a happy lunatic_ , Slingshot thought as he watched his confused gestaltmate hover in circles with that stupid, focused smile plastered on his face. _He's happier than I've felt him since we brought him back to base_.

Mission accomplished.

-Okay seriously, what are you guys doing? The slag is he so happy about?- Air Raid asked again.

- _SLINGSHOT_! WHERE IS HE?!-

That was Silverbolt. Looks like First Aid could only stall for so long. Skydive's astounded voice crackled over the comm,

-Wait, you took him _out_? What were you thinking?-

-Woah, you snuck him out from under _Ratchet_? Jazz should put _you_ in Special Ops.- Air Raid laughed. -You are so dead.-

The bomber apparently thought this was hilarious. Silverbolt, not so much.

-I order you to bring him back to the medbay _NOW_. What are you fragging _doing_?-

-This.-

And Slingshot sent them a gif of Fireflight waddling in circles on his thrusters through the air.

Silverbolt abruptly rage quit his end of the comm.

Air Raid sounded like he was choking he was laughing so hard over the line. -*HAHA* that's beautiful! Hey, he's actually _smiling_! Run *HaHa* while you can!-

"Fireflight, come on, it's time to go." Slingshot called, motioning to the other mech. Might as well get him ready to leave. He _so_ did not want him to have another melt down when Silverbolt got here, especially in public. Because Silverbolt was definitely coming for him; he could feel it.

" **Aww."** Fireflight pouted, but he descended to the floor at the summons. That was so much fun! He _flew_! Maybe the robot would teach him how to turn back into a jet like he had accidentally done that one time? He wondered how fast he could go. Wait until he told his parents!

And just like that, his bubble burst.

His parents. _Oh_.

He still didn't know where he was, let alone _what_ he was. Would he ever see his parents again?

Slingshot gave him a wry smile when he landed with a stumble, attributing that to his brother's suddenly forlorn expression. "We've been discovered. It was nice knowing you."

" **What?"**

"Hello."

Slingshot spun around to face his commander. Silverbolt's tone could have frozen processed energon, and Fireflight subconsciously brushed closer behind his impromptu flight instructor at it.

"Heyyyyyy Commander."

"Don't you "Hey Commander" _me_." Silverbolt snapped, though for Fireflight's sake he kept his volume to a minimum. "What were you _thinking_? Until Ratchet or Rung figures this out you have _no_ way of knowing what might set him off. You're lucky Ratchet hasn't noticed he's missing yet. And do I _want_ to know what you did to First Aid to get him to agree to this?"

"Nope." Slingshot said. He motioned to Fireflight. "And great! If Ratchet hasn't noticed yet then we can still sneak him back in!"

Silverbolt's scowl deepened. Yup, he was pissed.

"..."

"Oh come _on_ , you're not going to get Ratchet on my case too, are you? I'd like to get out of the brig sometime this _century_." Slingshot whined. Yeah, he knew he'd broken protocol this time, and that the others were probably worried he had somehow irreparably damaged the little head case. He'd been (albeit briefly) worried about that too. But seeing his hurting brother smile like that after being so scared of them all the time?

Worth.

* * *

Mirage was utterly flummoxed.

Bumblebee wasn't in the rec room; didn't _come_ to the rec room for his rations today, that was. Nor was he in the washracks. Or at the practice ranges. Or in his and Ironhide's shared quarters (though Mirage suspected the mess he'd found in there that positively screamed 'Sideswipe' had something to do with it. Ironhide wasn't going to be happy).

He had trailed Bumblebee the previous night to his "secret" meeting with Moonracer, but rather than do something weird or traitorous they had simply sparred for a few joors, Bumblebee going ridiculously easy on the femme for her to win every round. Then again, the timing _was_ a little weird. Why practice so early? Had they not wanted anyone to see them together?

 _Perhaps the rumors_ are _factual,_ Mirage mused. _Maybe those two are an item_.

He'd never known Bumblebee to be a flirt. But lately the scout spent a lot of time around Moonracer, Firestar, and some other femme. Lanerunner? He wasn't sure. While Firestar already had a Sparkmate, he knew the other two didn't based on the way mecha talked like they did whenever the femmes were on base. Perhaps they had something to do with Bumblebee's current weirdness.

Mirage didn't _do_ weird. He was the Autobot's best intelligence operative; it was in his nature to figure things out. The weird was unknown.

Just like that blasted scout's current location. Where _was_ he? Not that Mirage felt Bumblebee was secretly skyping Megatron or something from wherever he was, it just annoyed the noble that he'd lost him.

Maybe he was in the observatory?

He entered an already occupied lift and keyed in the floor he wanted, before going to stand at the back. It was a Spec Ops thing; sometimes there was an advantages to having a wall to your back. Walls didn't tend to stab it.

He glanced aloofly at the other passengers, only to see that one of the aerialbots was openly gawking at him. What the-

"Something the matter?"

"Fjbkjiyrdchjtesgjkvjksagkmhfc". Fireflight coughed back. The frag?

But Slingshot enlightened him, "Sideswipe, am I right? I want to know who the Pit thought teaching him to scramble vocalizers was a good idea."

Mirage nodded. _That makes sense to me._

He said,

"That is unfortunate, Fireflight. By the way, would either of you happen to know where Bumblebee is?" He was going to find that scout if it was the last thing he did.

"Sorry haven't seen him." Slingshot apologized. Mirage looked at Fireflight, but the mech continued to stare unabashed. _Rude_.

Apart from that strange encounter Mirage didn't see anyone else on his way to the observatory. The large domed shaped room with a good view of Cybertron proved as empty as the adjoining hallways, another dead end. Mirage was just about to give up when his HUD detected a location ping. Who-

 _...Bumblebee_?

Speak of the devil. Why was he pinging him his location? Mirage spun on his heels and headed back the way he'd come.

The signal indicated the scout was the floor below his, and Mirage hopped another ride on the (this time empty) lift to get there. Tracking it just like a GPS, he eventually found himself walking up to a extremely narrow door situated in the hallway wall. What was this, a closet for ants? Bewildered, Mirage reached forward to hack the lock. For a mech of his talents, it would only take him a moment. His HUD had to be glitching, the noble rationalized, because there was just no way, _no way-_

The door opened. A surprised Bumblebee looked back.

"Well this is awkward."

Mirage just stared.

"Care to give a mech a hand?"

What….

Dumbly Mirage realized Bumblebee's arms were stuck down by his sides, he was wedged into the little closet _that_ tight. Getting over the near processor freeze over the randomness of the situation, the noble grabbed ahold of the yellow's shoulders and heaved him out with a satisfying _CHINK_. Surely Bumblebee had a good explanation for this. Mirage said as much.

"I was…," Bumblebee fumbled, "...hiding."

" _Hiding_?"

"Yes. Hiding." He asserted with more confidence.

Mirage raised an optic ridge. The way Bumblebee said that, like he wasn't so sure of himself...he was _totally_ lying. Not sure why or what else he could be doing in a closet by himself (Mirage squashed that line of thought), but Mirage just knew it. Bumblebee knew it. Neither said anything for a tense moment, both mentally acknowledging the fact, and Mirage straightened.

"You were hiding, you say. From who?" The noble inquired acidly. He'd had enough bullshit for today.

"Someone." Bumblebee replied evasively, before turning to go (conveniently in the opposite direction from him, Mirage noted) with a "See ya!" over his shoulder plates. Not to be shaken, the taller spy easily fell into step beside him.

 _Oh no you don't._

"From who? _Bumblebee_." Mirage pressed, reaching out to grab a hold of his shoulder. Bumblebee jerked to a stop and _looked_ at him, set-faced. Then the moment broke.

"Uh." Bumblebee said, glancing around as if for an escape. He froze, having found it. "Him."

Mirage looked up.

Ratchet was stomping down the hallway towards them, having just turned the corner. It seemed he wasn't the only one looking for Bumblebee.

"There you slagging _are_! I've been looking all over for you!" Ratchet growled, shoving past Mirage to snatch Bumblebee's good arm. He turned to head back the way he came, Bumblebee in tow. "Where have you been? Hiding in a fragging closet?!"

Mirage met Bumblebee's optics as the hapless scout got towed backwards, and then they were gone, disappeared around the corner. Mirage just stared at where they had been, processor threatening to freeze again.

 _What…._

Then the questions started piling up. The frag did Ratchet need Bumblebee for? Why was Bumblebee in a closet? Why was Bumblebee lying to him about being _in_ said closet? And the _frag_ was going _on_ around here?

Frowning, Mirage headed in the opposite direction. No use interrogating Bumblebee right now; once you were in Ratchet's clutches, there was no escape.

Something _weird_ was definitely going on.

Mirage was utterly flummoxed.

* * *

Bumblebee didn't know if he should be terrified or thankful that he was being dragged off by Ratchet. On the one hand, Ratchet already sort of suspected there was something wrong with him, so it would do good to tread lightly. On the other hand….

Mirage.

He'd been so close to breaking his cover. According to Bumblebee's memories, Mirage was another of Jazz's spies. They had gone on missions together, and generally got along even if they weren't they best of friends. Mirage would instantly know something was up if Bumblebee told him the real reason he was still in that closet was because he didn't know how to hack the lock.

That had to be the easiest trick in the book.

Not only did he not know how to unlock the door, the force of Sideswipe's shove into the confined space had wedged him in with his arms pinned at his sides. He'd been unable to lift his hand to comm for help, and no one had wandered by in joors to receive his short range internal comms. Getting claustrophobic, the teenager had finally let out a location ping for someone, _anyone_ , to let him out.

It was just bad luck that that someone happened to be a fellow Mirage.

Ratchet practically threw him on a berth when they got to the medbay, with a stern "Wait here" before disappearing into his office.

As if on cue, three winged mechs Bumblebee didn't recognize (the aerial-something? -Squad? -Bots?) rushed past him to disappear into one of the isolation rooms in the back.

Alrighty then.

Ratchet came back none the wiser to whatever it was Bumblebee had just witnessed. "Wheeljack got the parts for your arm ready, as you're apparently needed elsewhere." He said in conversation, undoing the metal brace attached to the arm Bumblebee had sabotaged. He maneuvered a chord into the data port under Bumblebee's wrist, and the armor from the wrist to the shoulder detached from his protoform so he could remove it.

"Welds seem to have held." The medic muttered, inspecting his previous handiwork. If he noticed the state of Bumblebee's paint job (which he hadn't had time to brush up on thanks to Sideswipe's ambush), he didn't comment.

What he _did_ comment on confused Bumblebee.

"This wasn't here last time." The older mech mumbled, gently turning over Bumblebee's wrist. Ratchet unsubspaced his wrench to lightly tap the young scout's helm and sarcastically beg, " _Please_ tell me you don't plan on becoming like Sideswipe; I swear that idiot has more engravings than the temple of Primus."

"Uhm….". Bumblebee said, shifting so he could see what Ratchet was talking about. The Cybertronian glyph for the number '6' was engraved in the protoform on the underside of his wrist. Engravings were basically Cybertronian tattoos, though with enough shaving they could be removed. Scott didn't remember doing that; Ratchet must have missed it the first go around.

"I don't." Bumblebee reassured. Ratchet harrumphed before setting the arm straight again to begin his work. After what seemed like an eternity of enduring the medic's sharp pokes and prods as he fitted in new parts, and had to take out some of the old, split previous welds, and add new ones, Ratchet finally handed him his shoulder plate.

"Jazz told me to tell you to get to his office, since apparently you don't like answering your comm."

Ratchet snarked, beginning to gather the tools he had used that were strung out on the berth. He gave Bumblebee a curious sideways glance while doing so. "There a reason for that?"

 _Nope, I'm just an asshole_ , Bumblebee thought about replying. _Obviously_ there was a reason he hadn't been picking up - if you count getting pinned inside a closet. But he couldn't say that. Ratchet was the Autobot's CMO. Did he know Bumblebee was a spy?

"O-okay, I'll uh, go see him then. Sir." Bumblebee stuttered, scrambling off the berth to do so. No way he was having that conversation with Ratchet.

He palmed open the medbay entrance and was surprised to see Moonracer and Firestar on the other side. _Huh_ , he thought. _Dejavu_.

Firestar snagged his arm.

"Where have you _been_?" She hissed. Bumblebee glanced over his shoulder at Ratchet, who was not so subtly watching the three of them as he cleaned his tools.

"In a closet." Bumblebee whispered back, keeping his volume as low as possible so the CMO wouldn't hear him. Firestar opened her mouth to say something to that but nothing came out.

She mentally shook herself. _Okayyyyyy_. "Whatever. We need your help with something." She said quietly, getting the hint.

"Can't, I'm on my way to see Jazz. He's probably pissed that I haven't been answering my comm."

"We noticed." Moonracer deadpanned.

"Seriously, you're _leaving_?" Firestar breathed. "You gotta hear this."

"Tell me later tonight, I have to go, like, _now_."

"No."

"Yes."

" _No_."

" _Yes_."

"just five breems."

"Can't, _bye_." Bumblebee said softly, before darting around them to continue his journey. Those two could tell him about whatever it was tonight; he didn't want to keep Jazz waiting. Couldn't afford to be on the head of Special Ops' bad side if he was to keep up the ruse.

But when he reached the office, it was actually _Jazz_ who apologized to _him_.

"Sorry for such short notice," the visored mech said, handing a datapad to him instead of beating him with it, as Bumblebee had expected him to.

"Prowl wasn't sure if we wanted to go through with this, but I think it might work. We got ground units mobilized for a joint attack on Altihex. The city has strategic advantage due to its proximity to Kaon; no doubt ole' Bucket Head won't be too happy about us taking it back."

 _Uh, why are you telling me this?_ Bumblebee wondered as his superior droned on. His newly repaired arm suddenly seemed heavier than when he had had the brace on it.

 _No_ ….

"You're mission will be separate from the attack-"

 _Mission? Did he just say "mission"?_

"Because you won't be going to Altihex. With the Decepticons focused on the battle, there will be less mecha to defend Kaon-"

 _No no no no…._

"-from our brand of attack. Megatron is building something; I have various reports including Mirage's from when we investigated the Polyhex area of strange parts being manufactured in separate locations, and that _whatever_ it is requires an enormous power supply. Find out as much as you can about this."

Bumblebee nodded numbly, but Jazz wasn't through. "I trust you're ready to leave immediately? Good, 'Cause the first wave of the Altihex attack is scheduled to go down in about a joor. There's a shuttle waiting in loading bay 6. Come on, I'll walk with you." Jazz offered amiably. Not because he thought Bumblebee would disobey but because they were friends.

The black and white mech stood up and moved to the door, and Bumblebee had no choice but to follow.

Shit. Shit shit _shit_ shit shit. He was going on a mission. _He was going on a mission!_ Scott felt frozen, though his peds still carried him down the hall as if they had a will of their own. He felt he wasn't (okay, _knew_ he wasn't) ready for this. Sure, he was getting a little better in his fights against Moonracer, but against a _real_ opponent that was actually trying to kill him?

He was tempted to run off. Except Jazz was walking right in front of him. Did he know Bumblebee didn't want to go on a mission? Or was this just cruel fate?

It wasn't like he could injure himself again to get out of this one. That was too suspicious. There wasn't enough time.

He was _going_.

* * *

Firestar watched Bumblebee stomp away from them to apparently go see Jazz.

"Hmmf," Moonracer snorted, arms crossed. " _He's_ certainly no help."

"Come on," Firestar said, tearing her gaze away from the scout's retreating back. Yeah, she could tell him about their meeting later tonight. But right now they were femmes on a mission.

Firestar hadn't believed Moonracer's story about Greenlight's story. The teal femme had seemed especially pissed off when she told her though, so maybe there was a grain of truth to it.

They had to find out.

Ratchet glared at the two of them as they entered. Moonracer didn't even have to fake her limp.

"And what, may I ask, do _you_ want?" He said, eyeing Moonracer especially. He could already guess.

 _Show time_ , thought Firestar. She put on a nervous expression. "So, uh, funny thing 'Doc. Me and Moonracer were sparring earlier, and I might have...accidentally twisted her leg out of its socket."

"How do you accidentally twist a leg out of its socket?" The medic asked, unimpressed.

Moonracer spoke up, "Well, actually that _was_ what she was trying to do. But not for real. I was showing her this new hold-"

"Show me."

Firestar helped Moonracer to the nearest berth so Ratchet could scan her. He scowled at the results.

"The whole slagging _trod_ is out of alignment! I don't have time for this level of stupidity," he snapped, throwing up his hands in defeat. He'd been looking forward to actually having no patients for a few breems. You win, Primus.

He pointed at Moonracer. "Don't move."

Then he left, probably to go get a part or a hammer to pop it back in place with, they couldn't tell. As soon as he was out of sight Firestar nodded before slipping away.

Which one? Which one was it? All these isolation rooms looked the same. She stood on the tip of her peds to peak in one. Empty. Another. Also empty. _Shit_ , Ratchet was going to come back and see her….

" _Hurry"._ She heard Moonracer hiss from across the room, where she was watching her from her medical berth. Peering into the third room, she was about to dismiss it as empty too, but movement caught her optic. There was a winged mech in there, for some reason sitting in the corner.

Bingo.

Quick before Ratchet came back, Firestar opened the door, rushed inside, and palmed it shut. Leaning against it, the orange and red femme allowed herself a sigh in relief. She hadn't been seen.

 _Phew_.

The grey mech in the corner was looking at her apprehensively now. For a minute, they simply stared in stand off, until the flyer said timidly, " **Hello?"**

Woah. Moonracer _had_ been right.

And Firestar smiled.

" **Hi."**

* * *

 **While I'm at it, here's another chapter. The seeds are being planted /:)**

 **Thank you, _Grava_! Hope you all enjoy, and as always, _please leave reviews_! :)**


	13. Chapter 13

To say Scott didn't know what the _hell_ he was doing would be an understatement. He had the datapad that detailed what kind of info Jazz was looking for, but no actual instructions. No step-by-steps on how to break into the most Decepticon fortified place on the planet; 'cause, you know, _that_ would have been helpful.

The planet. He was actually _on_ Cybertron. Being in the Autobot's moonbase was one thing, but it was a completely different animal knowing he was standing on the aliens' homeworld. It really brought it home that he was no longer home.

Bumblebee had been dropped off at the rendezvous point, which, according to Jazz's instructions, was where he was too meet the shuttle again in exactly 15 orns 36 joors from now. If he survived. That left the question - _did_ he try and complete said mission, or should he wait it out like the coward he totally was and pretend like oh no, he couldn't find anything? Really, who would be the wiser?

 _Jazz, probably_ , Bumblebee thought. His boss could demand footage, a processor link, or any other proof that Bumblebee wouldn't have and then he'd know. That would be it. Game over.

Bumblebee internally groaned at the thought of Jazz's reaction to finding him out. He looked around. The rendezvous point was behind a partially collapsed building on the outskirts of Kaon. Was he expected to drive there?

Might as well start walking. Shards of metal and other debris crunched under his peds, ominously loud in the quiet. It was like the place had been bombed; perhaps he should find some cover. At least until he decided what to do.

The building he picked was at least 20 stories, with the top nine or so collapsed inward. Bumblebee explored it in his indecision. It was dirty and dusty, with the cloying smell of rust rubbing at his olfactory sensors the wrong way. Climbing a set of partially rusted through stairs, he ascended to the highest level safely possible to see if he could get a good view of the the surroundings. That seemed like the strategic thing to do.

...Desolation….

Miles on miles of abandoned streets and buildings sprawled, no doubt torn up in battles past, and Scott could do nothing but stare. Their broken architecture was both foreign and familiar, and everything had a kind of glint to it seeing as even the ground was made of metal here. Bumblebee felt a swell of sadness despite not being Cybertronian himself - it was like he couldn't tear his optics away. This was horrible.

This was war.

Unfortunately for him, Bumblebee didn't know the second easiest trick in the book, so caught up his view of the war-torn alien city as he was. A simple rule, one that had saved the necks of Autobot spies like Mirage and Jazz many a time.

When in enemy territory, _don't stay out in the open_.

A gun cocked in the silence.

"Weapons to the deck!" Its owner snarled.

Bumblebee jumped. Slowly, so as not to be mistaken for attacking, he turned around in mounting horror.

A mostly jet black mech with red highlights and a facemask stood before him, plasma blaster aimed and at the ready. The Decepticon sigil emblazoned proudly on his chassis was also hard to miss.

 _Scrap_.

"I said throw your weapons down, Autobot _scum_ ," the mech sneered, motioning with his gun. "Unless you'd rather settle this the hard way." The Decepticon sounded like he'd personally enjoy the latter, so hastily Bumblebee disconnected his firearms to throw them down in the former. The weapons' clatter echoed against the walls.

"Wise decision. Turn around and kneel. _NOW_!"

Spark in his throat, Bumblebee nervously complied. _This can't be how it ends!_ He internally despaired.

The teenager wanted to sprint away when he heard the mech rapidly approach him from behind once he'd knelt down, and a second later one of his arms was wrenched backward, the grinding of metal in its socket very much audible. Bumblebee cried out in pain.

Hey, he'd just gotten that repaired.

" _Quiet!"_ The mech snapped, knocking Bumblebee in the helm so hard he saw static. When his vision cleared Scott realized both his servos were now cuffed behind his back.

 _Shitshitshitshit-_

He was roughly pulled to his feet. The muzzle of the gun dug into his back-plating, and the Decepticon ordered, "Move, slagger! Slowly. No funny business now."

In this manner he was forced out of the building and along long abandoned streets. The two of them had to have walked through the destroyed city like that for at least a groon, because his trods were starting to get tired. He tried not to show it. He was afraid of what his captor might do if he stumbled.

At long last the mech ordered him to stop walking and to put his back up against a section of wall. Scott did so, wondering what was so important about this particular area of ruins where they had stopped. The still unnamed Decepticon sat down on a piece of rubble, but the sights of his blaster never strayed far.

They waited.

Eventually, the sound of an engine started building in the distance. But Bumblebee could only stand still, the Decepticon's gun trained on him like the mech only needed an excuse to use it.

 _Oh shit! Did he call for backup?_

No _way_ was he getting out of this one.

A bulky vehicle tore around a collapsed structure further down the littered street. it transformed into one of biggest mechs Bumblebee had ever seen (aside from Bulkhead) before marching up to them, a fierce scowl on his grey faceplates. The scowl lessened slightly, like now the mech was contemplating only mauling his teammate instead of murdering him, when he caught sight of Bumblebee.

"Oh, so you _weren't_ lying." He growled, sounding amused despite his seriously scary expression.

"You wound me. Would I ever lie to you?"

"Don't test me Dead End. Where'd you get _this_ slagger?"

"Found him scouting on the outskirts of sector 7; what do you know, patrols _are_ useful."

The new Decepticon stalked up to Bumblebee, and Scott pressed closer against the wall. _I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I failed whatever brought us here. Firestar will be all alone. I'm gonna die._

"So do we _have_ to take this one back to base," he heard the aforenamed 'Dead End' say, "or can I have some _fun_ with him?"

"Soundwave will decide whether he's worth interrogation."

"Awww, but _Motormasterrrrrrrr_! Why does Vortex get to have all the fuuuuuuuunnnnnnn?"

Bumblebee didn't know who the hell "Vortex" was, but the complaint had Motormaster turning away to snap, "Quit your whining _fragger_! This is a patrol, not a pleasure house!" at his subordinate.

Motormaster refocused on the meek Autobot cornered in front of him. The mech's yellow plating was actually _shaking_ in terror. _This_ was an Autobot scout?

"Pathetic," the Stunticon leader scorned, before slamming the bot's helm back with a vicious uppercut. Given their size ratios, the hit had considerable force.

 _SLAM_

" _Lights out!_ "

* * *

" **Hi."**

Despite her excitement at meeting yet another (possible) human, Firestar wasn't exactly sure what to expect. But it wasn't for the mech to launch across the room faster than she could blink in order to wrap grey-plated arms around her neck in a tight hug.

" **Y-you can talk!"** The mech cheered/sobbed in her audio.

Awkwardly Firestar said, " **Uh...of course I can?**

It was a statement as much as a question.

The hug loosened a fraction so he could look up at her and stutter. " **I mean...I can understand what the other robots are saying, but you're the first to understand** _ **me**_ **. Are you human too?"**

" **Yes."** Firestar confirmed. She was getting a little uncomfortable with being so close to this stranger. As if sensing her thoughts, he let go fully and stepped back, unabashedly looking her frame up and down.

" _ **What**_ **?"**

" **You're pretty. For a robot, I mean."** The orange and grey mech said bluntly.

Something niggled at the back of her processor.

" **Umm, thank you?"** Deciding to switch gears she asked, " **What's your name?"**

" **Will. But the robots keep calling me 'Fireflight' like they think I'm someone else. How come?"**

" **You** _ **don't**_ **know?"** Firestar said, feeling disappointed. Why was this happening to them? She'd been hoping the new guy could tell _them_ what was going on, instead of the other way around.

At her pause the mech gasped, " **You don't know either?!"**

No. Yes. She could give him the current rundown, at least. Firestar thought his tone sounded really distressed at the notion that she didn't know; the idea forming in the back of her mind got a little bigger. " **That's because you** _ **are**_ **someone else. You...** _ **we**_ **, somehow, are in someone else's body. Or something like that."**

" **Woah. Does that mean we're like,** _ **ghosts**_ **?"**

Will said. He sounded weirdly excited by the idea, like he thought it was cool. " **Can we possess other robots? Do we have ghostly powers? Where are we, anyway?"**

" **We're in the** med **-sorry, the on-base hospital."** Firestar said, able to answer the last and least stupid question. This "Will" seemed really immature. Helloooo, they'd been turned into aliens. Did he not think this was serious?

" **The hospital?"** Will repeated, sounding thoughtful. " **A robot hospital? Why? Does that mean all those mechs that poke me with needles are doctors? I'm not** _ **sick**_ **, am I?"**

" _ **What**_ **mechs?"** Firestar demanded, suddenly nervous. _Needles_? Had the Autobots already discovered that the human-turned-mech wasn't one of them and started _experimenting_ on him? Ratchet didn't seem the kind, but-

-but she should have had more faith in her Autobot friends, because Will pointed a metal finger to his berth, where an energon IV (currently empty) rested on a stand next to it. " **Sometimes someone will come in and stick one of those in me. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would the first time. Is it medicine?"**

" _ **No**_ **,"** Firestar laughed, amused at her own stupid paranoia and glad that he (as far as she knew) hadn't been discovered. " **Dude, they must be giving you energon with that. You know,** _ **energon**_ **?"** She repeated at his blank look.

"Ener- **what**?"

" **You don't know what** energon **is? It's, how do I explain...here. It's like** _ **this**_ **."** She unsubspaced a cube. " **You drink it."**

" _ **What**_ **? Why would I do that? That stuff's gotta be like, poisonous or something. It** _ **glows**_ **."**

Firestar just looked at the flyer like he was retarded. Maybe he was.

" **Wait, Ratchet's been giving you an IV because you won't drink your energon?"** She had to clarify. That was so _stupid_. If _she_ tried that stunt, the CMO would probably reformat her into a welder.

Sighing when Will just nodded, she held the cube out to him. " **Look, it's not poison, okay? Try some."**

After a second Will hesitatingly accepted it. He gave the cube a sniff. Gently, tipping it back, he took the smallest sip possible, and immediately brought it away from his mouth.

" **Hey, kinda tastes like cotton candy."**

" **Sure?"** Firestar said. She was sure it tasted slightly different to everyone, but she and Bumblebee were both of the opinion that it was sweet as well. Moonracer thought they were being ridiculous. "Plain rations don't _have_ taste," she'd often say. Now highgrade, on the other hand….

"Fireflight" took a heavier swig, his tank now rumbling for more. It hadn't gotten energon the normal way in quite a while.

" **Will, when did you wake up here?"** Firestar asked in small talk, though she could already guess based on Moonracer's recounting of Greenlight's story.

Will stopped greedily chugging the cube she had given him long enough to answer, " **I don't know. When I-** _ **Fireflight**_ **and his brothers were on patrol."**

" **Brothers?"**

" **Yeah,"** Will nodded, sitting down on the berth now that he'd finished the cube. He swung his legs like a kid. " **Slingshot and Skydive and**

 **Air Raid and Silverbolt. Silverbolt's really mean though."**

" **What do you mean?"**

" **He got really mad at me when I poured out some** en-ener- _energon_ **, before they stuck me in here. And he got mad at Slingshot for taking me flying earlier - I** _ **flew**_ **!** _ **Look**_ **!"**

Will/Fireflight beamed, raising his peds parallel with the floor so Firestar could see what he was talking about. " **I have rockets in my feet like**

 **Iron** _ **-**_ **Man! Silverbolt was trying to act like he wasn't but I could tell he was really mad at us for sneaking out. We all could. We're telepathic.**

Firestar blinked at the banter. Wait. Wat.

" _ **Telepathic**_ **?"** She echoed. The fuck?

The Autobot sitting on the berth in front of her nodded eagerly. " **Umm,** _ **telepathic**_ **? You know, when people feel other people's feelings with their minds? We can sorta talk to each other like that, even when we're not there. It's like how Professor-X can talk to people with his mind.**

Okay, for one thing, the word he was looking for was _empathic_ , Firestar thought. But that was hardly the point when she realized: " **You mean you're bonded to them? All** _ **four**_ **of them?"**

 _How_? She'd never heard of such a thing. Then again, she wasn't exactly an expert on the whole robot-alien-bonding thing (and definitely didn't plan to become one, _Inferno_ ).

Wait a second-

Professor X? As in, the The _X-men_? The dots in her mind suddenly connected, and Firestar felt like such an idiot. This guy-

" **How old are you?"**

Will stopped swinging his trods. " **Twelve. Why?"**

Firestar stared. Holy crap, Will was _twelve_? This was no place for a frickin _twelve year old_! They were going to get discovered for sure.

At her horrified silence, Will again whined, " _ **Why**_ **? Is that bad? What's wrong?"**

" **Nothing,"** Firestar lied, smoothing her expression. " **You said you're bon-** _ **telepathic**_ **to Fireflight's brothers, right? How can they think you're him?"**

" **Because they think I'm crazy,"** the kid admitted, smiling a little. It was kind of funny when you thought about it, the way they walked on eggshells around him. Though still nobody had explained exactly what was going on. " **Not my fault they can't understand me."**

Firestar had to stop herself from remarking ' _That might actually be a good thing_ '. That and the fact that the people who were most likely to notice just thought he was crazy as opposed to being, you know, _possessed_. Or whatever they were doing.

Will asked, " **So can you make it so that I can talk like them? At least then they won't think I'm their brother anymore."**

" **No; I'm sorry, but I don't know why they can't understand you. I'm not a medic. When Scott and I first came here we could automatically speak their-"**

" **Who's Scott?"**

" **-Another person like us,"** Firestar said, ignoring the interruption. " **I'm sure you'll meet him later. And look, even if you could talk, you absolutely** _ **cannot**_ **tell them you're not Fireflight. I'm serious."**

" **Why not? Do people think** _ **you're**_ **someone else too?"**

" **Yes, but that's besides the point. No one knows we're not really robots. If they did, they might get mad, and then we won't be able to go home."**

That was putting it mildly. How to make this kid understand? " **It's like in the movies,"** she said. " **We can't reveal our secret identities."**

Will smiled at the analogy. " **Like how superheros can't reveal** _ **their**_ **secret identities?"**

Firestar rolled her optics. Sure. Nerd.

" **Exactly**."

 _Look, whatever floats your boat kid, as long as you don't break our cover._

Will suddenly squinted, his faceplates drawing into a concentrated frown.

" **What is it?"** Firestar asked, concerned.

" **It's Silverbolt. I think he's coming. They're worried about me again."**

 _Shit!_ She couldn't get caught talking to him! There would be questions. And that would mean answers, answers she couldn't ( _wouldn't_ ) give. Time to abort.

" **Look, I can't get caught talking to you right now."** She said, backing towards the door. " **Secret identities, remember? I have to go but don't worry, I'll come back."**

" **But-but I still have so many questions, no one else understands me! How did we get here? Do my parents know where I am? When will I see you again?!"** Will cried, hopping up.

The thought of losing the only person who'd been able to hear what he was saying in this strange (and albeit slightly less scary after Slingshot's fun little flying lesson) place was distressing, and Will felt Skydive's mental presence nudge him reassuringly. Silverbolt picked up the pace.

Firestar hugged him back, not wanting to end their conversation so soon either, especially since this was apparently just a kid. " **Do you know how to work your comm?"**

" _ **Comm**_ **?"**

" **Radio."**

" **We have** _ **built in**_ **radios?"** Will brightened. Of course they did, they were robots. Will didn't know why he hadn't considered it before.

" **I'll take that as a no."**

-Moonracer, please tell me Ratchet's distracted right now.-

" **Next time I come, I'll show you how, and then we can talk whenever you want. I'll explain everything I can later."**

Will/Fireflight reluctantly let go, wings dropping. " **Okay."**

-He just finished putting my trod back in alignment. Something wrong?-

- _Silverbolt's_ coming, I have to get out of here!-

-Frag! I'll ask him to watch me walk out of here to see if the leg's good - make a break for it using the other entrance on my count.-

-Sounds like a plan.-

-Umm, I thought that _was_ the plan?-

- **Earth** expression.-

-Your expressions make no sense.-

-Tell me about it.-

* * *

Silverbolt passed Ratchet in the hallway right outside the entrance to the medbay and nodded. The medic merely dipped his helm in kind as he talked with Moonracer, something about her leg. He didn't even have to ask why he was here.

Silverbolt's peds banged a steady rhythm on the floor as he made a beeline for Fireflight's room. The aerial commander didn't know what to make of the strange emotions they'd felt from Fireflight across their bond; first he'd been wondrously happy, then confused, then really distressed only a short while ago before clamping down on it again. Now it seemed he was back to normal. Well, relatively normal.

He opened the already unlocked door to Fireflight's room (it wasn't like First Aid or Ratchet to forget something important like that, he noted) but Fireflight was just chilling as usual, _alone_ , when he entered.

 _Huh_.

"You okay Fireflight?"

Fireflight nodded his helm vigorously. Over the bond, a different kind of nervousness emanated. Not the 'I'm scared' kind of nervousness as of late, more like the 'I'm scared I'll get caught' brand. Silverbolt was used to getting that feeling from Slingshot. What was _Fireflight_ doing feeling like that? Surely he knew he had nothing to hide from _them_.

"What was all that about? Ratchet threaten to turn you into a cleaning drone or something?" Silverbolt joked, slowly coming to sit next to his damaged brother on the berth. But for once Fireflight didn't shy away from him like he normally did ever since his accident.

"Fbkotdsergnkp." Fireflight mumbled, shaking his helm in a "no".

"You know you can tell us anything."

"Chjoysxvbkkkddsxvmm."

Talking was useless, he knew that. Still they always tried. Silverbolt unsubspaced a datapad to work on his reports (seeing as he _was_ responsible for the entire aerial division, small as it was, and not just his own gestalt). He fiddled with it so that Fireflight could see what he was writing, and even asked his critique on some of the paragraphs, pointless as the gesture was.

Silverbolt hated that. The seeming uselessness of it all. Fireflight wasn't in the kind of fight they were used to, the kind they could blast their way out of or call for backup. They couldn't fight whatever Decepticon-slagged virus was crippling their brother's processor for him.

Rung had said they were helping. That they just needed to keep giving Fireflight company, that _that_ would help in whatever this was because they were all close friends and gestaltmates to boot. If anyone could snap him out of this, according to the psychologist, it was them. Silverbolt fervently wished that were true.

Fireflight didn't appear to mind that he spent the entire time on a datapad. The smaller jet sat quietly, now drawing on a datapad of his own (the one Rung had given him, Silverbolt assumed). That nervous feeling was still there.

The brothers spent maybe two joors like that.

Fun as this was, Silverbolt couldn't spend all orn in here. He had flight drills to oversee (though he was tempted to simply cancel them. Duty was duty and all, but Fireflight was _way_ more personally important to him than following Prowl's schedule). Silverbolt stood up. Stretched. Narrowing his optics, the grey flyer reached behind Fireflight and picked up an the empty energon cube he hadn't noticed before. Huh.

"I have to go now. Try and get some rest, kid." The leader suggested before taking his leave, the cube in hand. Silverbolt nodded amiably to Mirage as he passed the Spec Ops mech, who gave him a calculating _look_ before going back to his datapad, on his way out of the medbay. What was that about?

For his part, Will stared at the closed door Silverbolt had just disappeared through. Now to spend another inordinate amount of time being bored and alone until one of Fireflight's brothers or someone else felt otherwise. Boo.

He hoped Firestar came back soon.

Since there was nothing to do Will positioned himself for recharge on the berth. He might as well get some rest like Silverbolt said - wasn't like there was much else to do. He offlined his optics.

* * *

Bumblebee onlined his optics. The world was kind of fuzzy, like he was seeing static, and blearily he realized that was because he _was_ seeing static.

 _Robots._ Right _._

Blinking, he sat up. He was in a cell of some kind. Rusty patches like dark stains corroded the room's floor, particularly around a berth set up in its center (that didn't bode well), and he thought he heard a faint hum emanating from the thin bars that made up the walls. The cell was small and smelled of death, and Bumblebee instantly regretted coming out of recharge. Maybe, if he went back to sleep now, he'd actually _wake up_ somewhere else later.

But this nightmare was no dream.

"We enjoy our little nap?"

"Huh!" Bumblebee gasped, spinning around to see who that was. A Deception he didn't recognize was grinning at him from behind electrified bars. This new mech was purple and green and had what looked like blades draped over his back like hacked up wings. Where was he?

"I _hope_ so," the 'Con continued, palming open the cell's door while he monologued in a creepily pleasant voice. "We're gonna have a _lonnnnnnng_ talk, you and me, so I hope you're all nice and rested and all that slag."

Something was off about this mech. Bumblebee could feel it immediately. He became extremely concerned when the mech allowed the door to reform and lock with a _HISSS_ behind him. They were locked in together.

"Look...I-I'll tell you anything you want to know," Bumblebee began, backing up.

The Decepticon smiled cruelly. "I know."

And he flung himself forward in attack. Bumblebee tried to defend himself - what was it Moonracer said about blocking your opponent? - but he wasn't prepared for the kick between his legs that dropped him to his knees in agony, followed by a sucker punch to the helm for good measure.

Why did that hurt him?

"It's not often 'Boss wants me to _play_ with a Special Ops 'bot," The 'Con giggled with maniacal glee, circling his kneeling-in-pain victim like a predator looking to pounce. He paused.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Clasping the underside of Bumblebee's chin, he forced Scott to look him in the optics. "Name's _Vortex_."

* * *

 **I'm back! Woo, real life keeps getting in the way. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review! Thank you so much for those who did! Also, the next chapter will introduce a character that cusses a lot, so be forewarned.**


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